


Through the Dark Come the Light

by theimaginesyouneveraskedfor



Series: Through the Dark Comes the Light [1]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-06
Updated: 2018-09-07
Packaged: 2018-09-15 07:26:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 30,787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9224870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theimaginesyouneveraskedfor/pseuds/theimaginesyouneveraskedfor
Summary: Dwalin finds a child among the devastation of battle but it might be full-out war to raise an elf among a village of dwarves.





	1. Chapter 1

It was a black night below the stony hills just outside Dimrill Dale. That day, just outside Moria, a battle had been fought though no victor declared as both sides had lost too much blood too proclaim themselves anything but routed. The orcs had retreated to the dark holes from whence they came while the dwarves had found a hiding spot within a series of craves cradled on the east side of Dimrill Dale, a place meant only for wild beasts.

The army of exiled Erebor dwarves huddled within the caverns around fire pits, trying at sleep that would not come or sitting in stony silence. All were trapped in limbo, the past and future setting in on them as they mourned both. Those they had lost were not to return and the road to Ered Luin would not be an easy one. The chill of the season was undercut by that of defeat and trepidation.

Dwalins sat between his brother, Balin, and his king, Thorin, arms crossed over his chest and his prized ax across his lap. He could still see traces of blood on the silver blade of his weapon despite the time and care he had been taking in cleaning it. It was all he could do to keep his mind from the battle. The gash on his shoulder throbbed, another reminder of their loss, and the stitches pulled at his flesh, causing him to grunt loudly.

“Brother,” Balin spoke through the eerie hush, “Are you well?”

“Only restless,” Dwalin answered, shifting his legs as if to prove his words.

“After such a day, how one be anything but exhausted?” Balin rubbed his eyes with yawn, leaning heavily against the pocked cave wall and pulling tight his cloak.

“I’ve never been much of a sleeper,” Dwalin achingly moved aside his ax and rose to his feet with a series of stifled groans, “How come I feel as poorly as an old goat?”

“Aye, we are not so old yet,” Balin assured his brother, his own dark hair streaked with more gray as the days passed.

“Mmm,” Dwalin brushed his hand over his balding head, a thinning Mohawk and thick side tresses were all that was left to him, “I think a walk would clear my mind.”

“You can try,” Thorin spoke at last, finally breaking from the deep trance which had him staring blindly into the flames, “I don’t think there’s any forgetting this day. Ever.”

Dwalin growled at the truth of the words and turned away solemnly. He walked along the cave wall around those comrades sitting at fires and laid across bedrolls. As he neared the darkest corner of cave where many had remained clear of, he felt a breeze sweep over him. Stepping closer, he saw the tunnel which had gone unnoticed by the rest. A small opening, concealed from a distance by the shadows curtained around its mouth.

He peered into the black but could see little for the lack of light. He kicked a stone upon the cave floor as he made to carry on, eager to forget about the mysterious passage. A faint noise kept him from going on however and he could not keep himself from turning back with a sigh. It was a distant noise, so indeterminate he could not be certain it was not the wind. His uncertainty was erased though as it sounded again and he reluctantly urged himself to listen to his stomach.

He took a thick stick from the pile of brush gathered for the fires and lit the end on a nearby pit. He walked back to the passage and held up his makeshift torch to the dark passage, stepping forward as he tried to see the end. As he entered, the walls were tighter around him than he expected but each foot fell in front of the next as he was drawn by an unsettling instinct. The hairs on his neck stood as he made his way further in and he could not keep himself from the dark.

The mysterious sound came again, this time a clearer wail, and followed by another echoing cry. He stopped in his tracks as he heard a third and inhaled deeply. It had to be a living creature. Of a pitch so high that it must not have been a very big one at all. Less than grown, he thought.

He swallowed and tried to convince himself that what he was hearing was not anything real. Yet he fell into motion once more, drawn in by another fearful whine. He lied to himself and swore it could not be what his mind knew for certain it was. _It just couldn’t be_. He turned the corner as the wails grew ever louder and finally stood before the source of the cries.

A bundle of fabric was pushed against the wall behind a tall stone, cradled between them carefully. A small face peeked out from the folds and unseen limbs stir beneath the faded gray cloth, the infant crying out in fear and likely hunger. Dwalin was caught in a tableau of confusion, looking down in awe at the child. The small babe continued to writhe within the heavy cloak and slowly he bent to lift it from the cold ground.

He moved back the fabric to see that the child was a girl before bundling her back up to hold snuggly against his chest. Her skin was frigid, a hint that she must have been there for hours at least, and he feared she would begin to turn blue. He smiled to himself despite his own trepidation and looked around the black passage, holding tightly in his free hand the burning stick.

“Hello?” He called as he cradled the girl closely, “Hello?”

No answer came and he wondered who would leave such a vulnerable babe in the cold dark. _Had the child been abandoned or merely hidden for her own protection? Did her guardian intend to return for her?_ Dwalin found his answer not far beyond where he had found the child as a trail of blood led away from her.

He followed the crimson drops to another opening to the series of caves, one in the rear of the tunnels which led to a steep and rocky impasse. It was far from the dwarves and thus unlikely that even he should have found such a hopeless scene. A tall figure laid across the dirt unmoving, a river of blood congealed around her form. Several orcish bows protruded from her shoulders and back and a knife slash was revealed as Dwalin walked around her.

As he looked closer, he saw that she was indeed an elf and upon further inspection of the babe in his arms, he found another set of pointed ears. The elven woman must have been slain a time before even the dwarves had found the caves, though not long after the battle. The child must have been hidden so that she too was not slaughtered so mercilessly.

Dwalin fumbled with the bundle of child as he turned away from the grim scene and headed back into the dark tunnels of the caves. Only as he walked along the black cavern did he realize the babe had quit her wailing. He looked down to make sure she was still alive and found her round blue eyes staring up at him intently. He smiled again, a gesture which had never come easy to him, and looked back to his path. _How was he to explain such a discovery?_

* * *

Creeping back along the tight passage, Dwalin found himself looking to the babe’s delicate features more than the path before him. The stick in his hand had burned to a twig and he happily extinguished it in the dirt, following the faint glow of the cave ahead of him. He stepped out into the chamber of the rocky caverns where his comrades remained, many had managed sleep in the time he had been gone and were sprawled beside low burning fires.

He stepped over sleeping bodies carefully, weaving towards his brother who leaned with eyes closed against the cave wall and the king, only feet away, resting in a similar pose. Thinking them asleep like the rest, Dwalin sat between them quietly, mindful to keep the infant steady and himself from disturbing those around him. He set down the child in the dirt before him as he pulled forth his pack beside her, searching his pack for whatever he had to feed her.

In his experience of children, as little as it was, he could guess her old enough to swallow more than milk. He fished out an old apple from the depths of his pack and hoped it would content her for the few hours they had before they were due to depart. As he felt along his belt for his knife, an elbow prodded his side and he looked over to find Thorin staring at the child with wide eyes, “Dwalin…”

“Thorin,” He unsheathed his knife and began peeling the apple, “I thought you asleep.”

“Oh, and I thought you yet to be a father,” Thorin hissed quietly, looking closer at the infant, “Where in all of Middle Earth did you find–”

“Her?” Dwalin finished before the king could, tossing away the red and brown peel, “Well, I did not go off searching for her.”

“What are you two arguing—Mahal!” Balin paled as he tried to keep his voice from rising, his eyes fixated upon the squirming child before Dwalin, “Am I dreaming?”

“No,” Dwalin grunted with irritation, unsure of how to explain the situation, “You have that mortar and pestle?”

“I should,” Balin took his own pack and looked into the leather pockets, his hand shoved deep inside before he pulled forth the wooden set, “You think she can eat that?”

“I could ask you the same,” Dwalin sliced the apple into the bowl and took the wooden stick, mashing the fruit easily into a yellow mush, “I haven’t any idea myself, but it will have to do until we find some nursemaid or goat to feed her.”

Dwalin took the large silver spoon hidden in his pack, a rarely used utensil, and stirred the lumpy apple. The spoon was much too big for the small mouth of the child but he would just have to be patient. As he set out to his task, he found himself surprisingly calm whereas earlier he had been terrified at the thought of caring for the errant child, even eager to hand her over to his brother or some other better suited to the prospect.

He scooped the softened fruit into the spoon and took up the child in one arm, holding the puree in offering to her small pink lips. He did not feel so certain as when he held his axe but there was an unexpected comfort in the snug weight of the infant against his side. He pressed the spoon closer and she took what she could from it, licking the excess from her lips as she swirled the apple around in her mouth. She finally swallowed without revulsion or difficulty and Dwalin was reassured that he would see her through the night.

“She was hidden in the tunnels,” Dwalin still sensed the confusion of the dwarves beside him and sensed eyes from around the cave of those still awake, “She was crying for her mother…who I found not far from her.”

“Dead,” Balin guessed somberly and Dwalin nodded with a frown.

“And how is it that she is not still crying in the arms of a great ugly bear?” Thorin brushed her cheek with his figure caringly, causing the child to flinch, “I am sure her mother was not so ugly as you.”

“Or a dwarf,” Balin offered and smiled down at the girl, “An army of dwarves stumbling upon and elven babe. Now, that it irony indeed.”

“Call it what you will, we must find her a meal better than rotten apple,” Dwalin stated dully as he continued feeding her, “And I don’t think she can yet stomach our rancid stews.”

“You’re a natural mother, aren’t you, Dwalin?” Thorin mused as he watched the infant with an uncharacteristic curiosity, “Should we try to return her to her people?”

Dwalin heard the question but did not give answer right away. He had thought of the same idea as he had carried the child through the dark but in the little time since, he had become accustomed to the thought of keeping her. Perhaps, not him personally, but she almost seemed a miracle; a good omen, sent to the dwarves by fate after such a bloody slaughter.

“Do you truly hate elves that much?” Dwalin grumbled, setting down the spoon and wiping the child’s mouth with his cuff, “You would cast out a mere child? We cannot be sure what elves do with orphans, but we do know dwarves to be more than generous.”

“Hmm,” Thorin squinted at his old friend closely, exchanging a look with Balin as he looked away, “If you want to keep her, Dwalin, you needn’t be embarrassed. It’s about time you started a family, though usually one finds a wife before a child.”

“What’s it to you?” Growled Dwalin as he set the child before him in the dirt, the cloak around her tangled and loose.

He unwrapped the faded gray cloak, intent on swaddling her more tightly against the growing chill of the night. As he did, he noticed the small black feather clutched tightly in her delicate hand. Dwalin made to take it from her but she swiftly moved away her hand as if to avoid his. He thought better of it, not daring to wrestle with a child over something so minor. Let her keep the plume, it was all the girl had left in this world.

“Well, are you going to give her a name?” Balin asked as Dwalin bundled the girl up neatly in the gray fabric, “That is, if you are truly intent on keeping her.”

“Hmm, I don’t know many elf names and those I do know, I don’t like too much,” Dwalin lifted the babe and settled her against his chest, pulling his own cloak around both of them to lock in the warmth. The weight of the child upon him settled the nerves which had been restless since the battle, “I think I’ll call her Feather…for now. I cannot think of anything else.”

“For now,” Thorin echoed unimpressed, though he looked amused as he watched his grizzly friend holding close his new found cub, “Let’s hope you do think of something better before she’s too old.”


	2. Part II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The dwarves return to Ered Luin and welcome yet another child into their lives.

By the time the ragged army of dwarves returned to Ered Kuin, they were in good spirits despite all that had befallen them and weeks of restless travel. Every dwarf, no matter his rank or file, was enlivened by the presence of the elven child, though none were more so than Dwalin. To those who knew him well, the sight of him smiling down at the babe or with her tied across his chest in a sling was novel, amusing even. Unexpected to all, the grizzly dwarf had taken to the girl as easily as he had his axe.

As they dragged themselves into the village among the Blue Mountains, the child was asleep in her sling with Dwalin’s hand rested upon the back of her head, his other around the handle of his axe. When the child was awake, she would pull at his beard and babble and to the surprise of many, Dwalin would coo back at her rather than growl.

It was rare that he ever relinquished Feather to anyone else. A few timse he had allowed Balin to hold her or Thorin but often took her back shortly as she began to cry. For some reason unbeknownst to all, the child calmed easily in his arms and he seemed to do just the same as he cradled her in comfort.

Dwalin had been saved from bartering all his silver for a goat along the road as the girl had proven more ravenous than any child he had known. The fruits he foraged for her upon their way and the thin broth set aside for her by the army cooks had done her well in the weeks since her discovery. It seemed even as if she had grown since then and was ever more mature by the day.

Walking into town, those dwarrows and dwarves who had stayed behind watched Dwalin with curiosity as he kept his arm shielded around Feather. The child was an unexpected treasure in herself but the sight of her in the arms of the army’s fiercest warrior was near absurd. Whispers greeted Dwalin as he walked beside his brother through the streets of Ered Luin but he could care little for he had more important things on his mind.

As more and more dwarves departed from the train of warriors, Dwalin turned to step away. He had much to do if he was to lay Feather down for a good night’s rest. He would need to find her a crib or even just a basket to sleep in and some proper clothes which would cover her better than the poorly-altered tunic in which she drowned. The sun would begin to descend soon and he had less to give his new charge than he had on the road.

Before he was more than a few steps away from the pack of road-weary dwarves, he was stopped in his tracks by a heavy hand on his arm. Turning back with a growl, he found his king smiling at him through his own fatigue. “Dwalin,” Thorin dropped his hand, “Where are you going?”

“Where do you think?” Dwalin replied and nodded down at the dozing child, “I’ve got to get her settled before the moon rises.”

“Why don’t you come see Dis first?” Thorin offered though it was more an order, “She’ll no doubt hear about the child before long and she’ll be angry with both of us if she is not the first to meet her.”

“Hmmm,” Dwalin was in no mood to delay the work he had set his mind to nor the sleep he so craved but he was well attuned to Dis’ temper which was likely little improved since their departure, “I suppose you’re right…only a few minutes though.”

“If she lets you go so soon,” Thorin smiled knowingly, “And if you don’t stay for dinner…I think it may be too tempting compared to anything we’ve choked down these last weeks.”

Dwalin shrugged and walked shoulder to shoulder with Thorin, their fatigue sinking in deeper as they got nearer Dis’ quaint village home. Her front window was open and the hens she kept in the yard roamed freely, pecking at the grass and stones. From within, they could hear Dis’ dusky voice as she sang a nameless ballad and at once they felt as if they had never left.

Dwalin followed his king through the arched doorway and kicked the dust off his boots before passing over the threshold. They found Dis in her kitchen at work as she piled steaming vegetables and roasted meats into a large pastry shell. She continued to sing as they stood watching her and held back the growls in their stomach as the savoury aroma riled their hunger.

“Sister,” Thorin interrupted her tune but she gave him little more than a smile as she continued on, “You seem happy.”

“How could I not be?” She spoke at last and skirted around the counter to embrace her long-missed brother, her last piece of the Mountain home they had both lost, “You have returned and all in good health,” She turned to Dwalin and stopped short before she could wrap her arms around him, looking down at Feather as she began to squirm in her sling. She must have awakened at their voices though she was not crying, “And you’ve a child?”

“A friend for yours,” Thorin chuckled and patted Dis’ growing stomach, already rounder than when they had said their farewells, “Whenever he chooses to join us, that is.”

“Or she,” Dis insisted with a crooked brow, ever hopeful for a dwarrow to call her own, “You cannot yet know it’s a prince.”

“I know,” Thorin kissed his sister’s cheek with a smirk and she shoved him away with a roll of her bright blue eyes, “Ah!” Thorin mocked pain at her brusque push, “You’ll see, Sister. We’ll have a new prince for the Mountain.”

“Oh, Thorin, quiet,” Dis turned back to Dwalin with a hopeful smile, “May I see the child?” She held out her arms warmly, “Does she have a name?”

“Feather,” Dwalin answered and reluctantly removed the girl from the sling, mustering his best smile as he handed her carefully over to Dis.

“That’s a pretty name. Different…but pretty,” She took the girl who made little fuss in her arms, the very plume she had been named for still clutched in her hand. She remained calm to Dwalin’s surprise and made not one sound as Dis rocked her in her arms and cooed at her, “Oh…an elfling? I fear to ask how exactly you two managed to stumble upon her.”

“Oh, it was not me who did so,” Thorin chortled and nudged his old friend whose eyes were still set on the girl.

“Dwalin? I always knew you had a soft heart in that iron chest of yours,” Dwalin looked to his boots and blushed. He had never been one to show himself to the world and yet this little girl brought out all that he fought so hard to keep masked, “Oh, but what are you to do with her? You’re barely ready for a child….” Dis shifted Feather to one arm and set her hand on her round stomach, “I’ve got time before mine decides to use his crib, I insist you take it until you find one of your own,” She looked down at the child adoringly, “Oh and do get her out of this horrid tunic, we’ve clothes which will fit her and–”

“Please, Dis, I can’t,” Dwalin hooked his thumbs meekly in his belt as he felt even more uncertain of how he was to care for Feather, “I’ll figure it out myself. She’s my responsibility…I took her from the cave and I brought her this far.”

“Nonsense,” Dis cooed again as Feather tugged at her apron, “You’ll take what I give. All of it until we can find you some of your own…and you will stay for dinner. I can hear your stomach from here.”

* * *

Months after the dwarves had returned to Ered Luin, Dis had grown so round that she could barely stand on her own and had slowed to a waddling gait. Thus it was no surprise when her husband, Vinor, rushed her to her bed and sent for the midwife, setting the town into a rush of excitement. All in Ered Luin were eager to meet their new heir or heiress and for a new beacon of hope to be brought into the community displaced from their true home.

The king’s sister handled her labour with a unique grace as a river of khuzdul obscenities streamed from her lips. Many of the curses which she hollered had not often been heard and others were new even to the likes of Dwalin and Thorin. It was the stemming of this flow of words that assured Balin, Dwalin, and Thorin all that the labour was over as they waited in Dis’ kitchen anxiously.

Thorin sat beside Balin at the counter while Dwalin tried to keep Feather under control. Thorin was nervous as he twiddled his thumbs and Balin tried to calm him. It was only his nephew and yet the king acted as if it were his own child being born. He adored children, almost too much, as any dwarf welcomes a dwarfling, though the loss of one was unthinkable and twice as mournful as any other death. It was all Thorin could do to stay seated and to watch Feather as she caused Dwalin trouble.

Dwalin could do little to help his king as Feather escaped his grasp ever ten second. To the surprise of all, she was already upon her feet and knowing little of elves, they guessed that they matured quicker than dwarves. Not only was she walking but she could even say some words, he favourite being the one she called Dwalin; ‘ada’. It was khuzdul for father and he had fought against it but Balin had insisted upon teaching it to the girl and corrected her whenever she did not address his brother so. As much as Dwalin had done for Feather, he was not her father, he was only a dwarf.

“At least the child will have a friend to keep company with,” Balin intoned gently as he watched Dwalin catch feather before she could try to scale the counter, “Though with Durin’s blood, I can’t say our heir or heiress will be any better behaved.”

“Mahal, I can barely handle this one,” Dwalin growled as he restrained Feather and sat down. She began to pull at his hair until she found the plume he had braided into his side tresses. It was the very one he had found along with her and he could not bring himself to get rid of it and it always entertained the girl, “Dis will be having no help from me.”

“Aye, but she has her husband,” Thorin smiled at Feather as she tugged Dwalin’s hair a little too roughly and he growled, “You’ve barely yourself to take care of this one.”

“Mmm, don’t I know it?” He stood and took Feather by her ankle, hanging her upside down as he lifted her too look her in the eye.

She giggled and swung her arms at him, “Ada, Ada.” It was all she could say as she tried to humour her dwarven guardian.

“Oh, don’t,” He shook his head but chuckled nonetheless, setting her back on his lap as he sat, “You’re a little demon, Feather.”

“Ugh,” Vinor appeared beside Balin and leaned against the counter, wiping the sweat from his forehead. The had not heard him near as they were distracted by the elfling, “It’s done. The baby is healthy…A son.”

“A prince,” Thorin stood abruptly and pulled his brother-in-law into a hug. He had never been very fond of the dwarf but he could not help his elation, “May we see him?”

“Why do you think I’m out here?” Vinor caught his breath, “Dis sent me to fetch the lot of you. Bring the girl, too.”

Dwalin sighed and stood with Feather but she slipped from his arms and waddled ahead. She was not steady enough to run yet but could move quickly as it was. Balin kept Dwalin from chasing after her with a hand on his shoulder, “She knows where she’s going…she seems to know much more than any of us as young as she is.”

The girl passed Thorin and Vinor and led the lot of them until she reached the door to Dis’ bedchamber, finding herself too short to open it. She looked back and clung to Dwalin’s leg with pleading eyes. He lifted her as Balin knocked before opening the door and he followed the rest inside with Feather once more in his arms. She was wriggling even before she saw Dis and he could tell she was bored and excited for whatever was going on.

“Look at him,” Balin neared and the dwarves lined Dis’ bed as they looked down at the new babe in his mother’s arms, “Beautiful eyes.”

“Yes, but look at that nose,” Thorin jibed and Dis shot him a sharp look, “I told you he would be a boy.”

“Put Feather on the bed,” She ignored her brother and ordered Dwalin instead, “I want her to meet him…they’re going to be marvelous friends.”

“An elf and a dwarf?” Dwalin set Feather on the mattress before crossing his arms, “One day she’ll figure out she’s not one of us and then she’ll leave us behind.”

“Don’t be so dark, Dwalin,” Dis sighed and sat up higher against the headboard as Feather neared and looked at the scrunched face of the infant. Slowly the girl reached out and touched his cheek softly with a squeak of awe. “Isn’t he cute, Feather?”

Questions were still beyond the girl and she merely sat beside Dis and looked on at the baby with wide smile. She pointed at him but could not find the word to ask her question. She kept pointing until her finger went toward Dwalin and she whined, “Ada?”

“She wants to know his name,” Dwalin filled in, uncertain of how he knew her meaning but he just did. He sometimes surprised himself with how much he understood the girl.

“His name?” Dis looked around nervously before her eyes went back to her son, “I thought Fili was a nice name…for Frerin.”

“I think it fits perfectly,” Thorin agreed in a sullen voice as he sat by Feather to her a better sight of his nephew, “Yes, I think Fili is a wonderful name.”

“Fili?” Feather’s voice was inflected with question and she pointed to the baby once more.

“Fili,” Thorin nodded and smiled at the girl, “Feather and Fili.” He lifted her onto his lap and shifted closer to his sister as he admired the new prince, “Friends.”


	3. Part III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Feather and Fili find trouble and Dwalin is none to impressed.

Dis listened as she heard the children chattering in the next room though she did not pay much heed to their words. The lot of them were always up to something and it saved her from having to chase them around atop her already endless list of chores. She could even hear Kili adding his stunted words to the conversation as the other two laughed in a pair of high pitched guffaws. The trio were growing into a troublesome team but as long as they were near, she could be sure they were not that deep into mischief.

As Dis rolled out the bread with the thick wooden cylinder, her kitchen door burst open as Feather ran in with Kili hanging onto her back. She stopped short on the other side of the counter as Fili trailed in after her, his cheeks rosy with joy. The blond dwarfling stood a head shorter than the elfling, both just out of toddler hood as the youngest was only just entering those early years. The elf’s pale lilac eyes were round as she looked up at Dis but they could not hide her inner machinations from the dwarrow’s motherly eyes.

“Auntie Dis,” She said in her bubbly way as she held tight to Kili’s leg, keeping him balanced on her back, “Ada will be finished at the forge soon and I wanted to surprise him. We all did.”

“All of you?” Dis smiled and rounded the counter, wiping her hands on her apron, “And why would all three of you need to surprise him?”

“Because he’s always so grouchy,” Fili intoned with a grin, “We thought he’d be happy to see us.”

“When has he ever been happy to see you?” Dis challenged her son with a tilted head, “Especially since you poured that mudpie over his head.”

“Oh, please, Auntie,” Feather took the lead once more as she smiled innocently, “I just want to make Ada happy…he wasn’t very yesterday.”

“Hmmm,” Dis knew the girl was up to more than she said but she knew there was little she could do to keep her from it. Besides, Dwalin seemed the only one who could handle her as it was, “Fine, but I will not be to blame for whatever antics you have in mind.”

“Antics?” Feather echoed menacingly as her face lit up even more and she shook her strawberry blond curls; her hair more pink than yellow, “Never.”

“Go on before I change my mind,” She side and took up her rolling pin once more, “Besides, you’ll be late if you linger any longer.”

The three children obeyed almost instantaneously and Feather led the charge out the back door as Dis listened to their voices trailing away from the house. The elfling bounced Kili upon her back as they picked up their pace and Fili tried to keep up on his shorter legs. Despite all his wishing and hoping, he was still unbearably shorter than his best friend. He was not that much younger and he could not help but resent her natural bearing.

He followed her around the corner and it took him until the next to realize they were not heading for the forge where Dwalin worked. “Where are we going?” He asked as the hair on the back of his neck began to stand on end.

“To my place,” Feather announced as if she had announced her very thoughts a dozen times, “Ada is always late after work.”

“Alright…but why exactly are we going to your house?” Fili’s thick brows came together and he wished he could be as careless as his brother who clung to Feather without a worry.

“You said you wanted a go at Ada’s axe, didn’t you?” She replied joyfully, “Well this is your chance…you’ll see how fun it is.”

“Dwalin’s axe?” Fili was suddenly very frightened at the thought despite his earlier boasts of how he would swing it around.

“Oh, don’t you worry, I’ve taken it before and Ada’s never caught me yet,” He chubby cheeks rounded as she laughed, “Oh, Fili, you worry too much.”

“But…maybe Mum was right. I don’t want to get in trouble and…we _are_ only kids,” Fili knew he sounded pathetic and Feather rolled her eyes in confirmation of his thoughts.

“Well, if you don’t want to hold the axe, you don’t have to, but I want to,” She announced and continued forward, her eyes set ahead of her, “I’m getting rather good with it you know? But Ada says I’m too young for weapons.”

 _Maybe he’s right,_ Fili thought but kept his lips tight. Through all his doubts and his well ingrained fear of Dwalin, he relished the opportunity to hold the axe of the greatest warrior in the village. He had dreamt of it nearly his whole life and he would have a good story to tell the other dwarflings.

They arrived at Dwalin’s small house, its pointed roof lower than most and the fence only half-built. Despite all his efforts, he had never finished the structure and Feather was rarely there without him so it had not seemed a pertinent task. Feather rushed up the walk and set Kili on her feet upon the doorstep before she pushed inside. Fili followed behind and took his brothers hand, leading him in with caution.

“Ada?” Feather called to make sure they were alone, sending a smile back to the dwarflings, “Okay, I know where he hides it.”

She scurried through to the back room and climbed atop the counter, balancing precariously on it as she reached up to the top of the cupboards. Feeling around blindly, the finally brought forth the axe and nearly feel from the weight of it as she took it down. Setting it down on the counter, she hopped down to the floor and took it in her hands with a gleeful giggle. She turned to Fili as she admired the curve of the blade and slowly held it out to him.

“So, do you wanna give it a try?” She asked.

“I don’t know,” Fili frowned and looked down at Kili as he squirmed, uninterested by the weapon as he was drawn to a crack in the floor. Fili released his brother’s hand and let him poke around the wooden slats as he looked back to the proffered blade, “I guess.”

Slowly he took the axe and once he had the full weight of it in his hands he felt more sure. He could barely hold it up as it was much heavier than he had expected and he wondered how Feather ever claimed she was able to swing it. He let himself smile as he looked up to her proud features and he tested the balance of it in his hands before offering it back to her.

She took it with a shrug and walked to the middle of the kitchen, “Stand back,” She ordered and Fili grabbed Kili as he kept against the wall, watching nervously as the elf swung the blade clumsily. She was stronger than she looked and Fili could not help but admire her strength before her third swing landed the blade in the wooden floor. “Oops,” Feather laughed as she tried to dislodge the weapon but her giggle was cut off a deep ‘ahem’ from the doorway.

“Feather,” Dwalin greeted sternly as he crossed his arms across his chest and stepped into the kitchen. The children grew silent and shameful as they watched him take the handle of his axe and pull it from the floor, “I don’t even need to ask.”

“Ada,” Feather’s face had gone pale and her voice was higher than usual as she gulped with fear, “I was only showing Fili.”

“I see that,” He crouched down as he held his axe in his hand and his eyes narrowed on his adopted daughter, “But I think Fili’s seen this old thing before…and I don’t recall you asking to borrow my axe.”

“Well, I…” She looked to her feet as she dug her toe into the wooden slats.

“And look what you did to the floor,” He sighed and looked to the gash left in the wood, “You’re going to bring this whole house down one day.”

“Ada, I’m—I’m sorry,” She said guiltily, looking up fearfully at Dwalin who was little impressed with her, “I was only…I know it was bad but I just…I want to be a warrior like you, Ada.”

“I told you, you’re too young,” He shook his head and stood, leaning the axe against his shoulder, “Weapons like these, they’re too dangerous and—Maybe next year, Feather.”

“Yeah, maybe,” She scoffed and crossed her arms, her fear replaced with irritation, “Uncle Thorin told me you were training when you were my age and Auntie Dis is letting Fili start next month and he’s younger than me.”

Fili looked down guilty. He should not have told Feather but he did not think she would be so hurt by the news. He had not even known Dwalin was so strict with her and he had thought that he would be training with her.

“I know,” Dwalin set down his axe and neared Feather, glancing between Fili and the girl, “But Fili is a dwarf and it’s his right.”

“His right?” She frowned, her voice nearly cracking, “But I’m your daughter, it’s my right, too.”

“Feather,” Dwalin said with exasperation before clasping his lips and turning with hands on his hips, lost in his own thoughts.

The girl was right that he should not keep her from training but she was not right about everything. She was not his daughter, no matter how much he wished it. She was an elf he had found in a cave and who he was struggling to raise. He was no father. He was just a lousy excuse of a dwarf too afraid to give a little girl a training sword.

“You’re right, Feather,” He relented reluctantly as he turned back, “I’ll make you a deal. I’ll take you on with Fili…if you promise not to use any blade without my permission. If I catch you sneaking around like this again, then you won’t ever train with a blade.”

“Really?” Feather smiled elatedly at the prospect, “Oh, Ada, I promise never to even look at your axe again if it means I get one of my own.”

“You will get a wooden sword,” He corrected her and tussled her soft curls with his burly hand, “And maybe, if you do well enough, I’ll have a real one made for you.”

“Hmmp, fine,” She agreed stubbornly, “For now.”

“Don’t test your luck, child,” Dwalin warned and turned to Fili and Kili, the younger clinging to his brother’s leg with the usual fear he had around the bearlike dwarf, “And you two, you best get home to your mother before I tell her what you were up to.”

“Yes, Dwalin,” Fili squeaked and picked up his brother with effort, “We’re so sorry.”

“Just go, you little devil,” Dwalin bent down and patted his shoulder gently and lowered his voice to a whisper, “I know it wasn’t your idea…don’t you go telling your mother you got anywhere near my axe though or she’ll have my head.”

“Okay,” Fili smiled with relief as he slipped past Dwalin and stopped just inside the doorway, turning back to Feather, “I’ll see you later, Feather.”

“Yeah, later,” She agreed, her eyes clouded as she dreamed of her father’s promise of a blade, “Bye.”

Fili sighed and sent a final wave in Dwalin’s direction before setting down Kili and pulling him to the front door. He wanted to be home before the frightening dwarf changed his mind and he knew his mother would know something was amiss if he stayed any longer. He shook his head as he led Kili down the front steps and cursed himself for ever trusting Feather. She had never gotten him into anything but trouble, even if it _was_ fun.


	4. Part IV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's the most important day of Feather's life thus far but with pride comes fear for Ada Dwalin.

Dwalin pulled out the silver-headed axe, running his fingers over the khuzdul runes carves unto the hilt just above the dark leather wrapped tightly around it. Like his own, the curve of the blade was a perfect arc and forged with utmost care so that even without whetting, it remained sharp. He held it in one hand, testing the balance of the weapon he had so painstakingly crafted himself. On odd days, he had spent extra hours at his anvil, pouring his sweat and even blood into it. Now he was eager to see the response he would get when he presented it to its intended wielder. 

It was the day when he would gift Fili and Feather with their warrior beads, to be placed at the end of the braids which signaled their entrance into adult hood. Dwalin could not believe how quickly the time had passed and that he would see the small infant he had found in the dark honoured with such a rite. She had trained hard these past years and so had he, though in a very different arena. 

In the years since his return from his last battle, he had learned to raise a child though he had no bead to show his ability; in his heart, he was not sure if such an ornament did exist, if he would have truly been deserving of it. Though he had seen Feather through to maturity, it had been a long road and even now he knew he could not do all that he wanted for her. In a village of dwarves, it was only his reputation which kept her from the scorn of the townspeople. Those who knew her well, cared little for her elven blood but those who did not, harboured their old prejudices in their passing.

Dwalin placed the axe atop a thick sheet of wool and wrapped it so that it was only a lumpy form, tying a length of twine around it to keep it secure. He lifted it and leaned it over his shoulder and headed out into the light of the setting sun. A block away, there was a crowd waiting for him and he could only imagine how eager the yet-to-be-crowned warriors were as they bided their time.

His own backyard was the training ground; for years, Dwalin had been in charge of teaching those deemed having enough potential to stand toe-to-toe with the gifted warrior. Today was his most special day as a master as he would see his own kin receive their beads and he could not be more honoured to bequeath the rite upon them. 

Walking around his house, he came upon the dozens of dwarves crammed into his yard. Thorin, Dis, and Kili stood with Fili and Feather; the younger brother looking at the elder enviously as he was still a time away from his own ceremony. Fili’s blond hair was already twined with the thick braid of a warrior and his matching beard was coming in thick across his cheek and chin. Feather however had left her hair loose, the strawberry blond curls well past her waist. She loomed over the dwarves around her but seemed as though she belonged as she chuckled deeply at an unheard quip from Dis.

Dwalin lumbered over to the group, other dwarves eying him as he passed and speaking or nodding their hellos. Coming up behind Feather, Dwalin tugged lightly on one of her spiral curls. She squeaked and turned around, her cheeks colouring pink as she smiled down at him in surprise.

“Ada,” She exclaimed and hugged him despite his growls; it seems she could decipher that they weren’t so unkind, “You’re finally here.”

“I wouldn’t miss it,” He assured her and kept the axe low in his grip, “Not that I could. Who else would give you your bead?”

“Hopefully soon, too,” Fili piped in and received a scowl from Dwalin, “Um, I meant, take your time.”

“But where’s your braid, Feather?” Dwalin asked as he examined her pink-tinted hair, “I can’t give you your bead without one.”

“I wanted you to braid my hair, Ada,” She batted her lashes, “I thought it only proper. You trained me and raised me and all.”

“Me? Braid your hair?” He looked at Thorin and Dis who smiled back at him warmly, “Well, I’m not too good at that, you know.”

“I don’t care, you’ll do just fine,” She assured him with a toss of her curls, “Oh, please. I won’t let anyone else touch my hair.”

“Fine,” He sighed and handed the wrapped axe to Thorin who took it with a knowing smirk, “Best you kneel down so I can reach.”

Feather obliged and Dwalin recalled how he used to do the same so that she could play with his locks, though they were much coarser and not so plentiful on the top. When she was younger, she would twine flowers through his hair and play with the feather which still hung from the braid down the left side of his mane. It had become worn over the years but it remained nonetheless, and would even when it was not but a thin willow.

Dwalin brought a hank of Feather’s long hair together between his thick fingers and began to carefully twist them around each other. The natural curl of her strands made it even more challenging but finally he was able to weave it past her waist and she took it between her own fingers to secure with a leather tie as she returned to her full height.  
“Ready?” He asked her and she nodded excitedly; her emotions shining through her violet eyes.

Dwalin led Feather and Fili through the crowds, stopping in the middle as a space cleared for them. He cleared his throat and all went silent as their attention turned to the center of the yard. He looked around and inhaled deeply, never one for words, though he had done these ceremonies many times.

“Today, we honour this dwarf and this elf as they enter their finely-earned warriorhood, “ Dwalin began, his deep voice carrying across the silence, “They have trained and proven themselves in the iron-mantle tournament…”

Going through the old words and guiding the two novices through the ancient vows, Dwalin could barely withhold his pride. He knew, however, that because Feather was so close to him and Fili too, he must not betray an especial attention or fondness during the rite. Both received their beads with dignity and he slipped them on the end of their braids and he bowed in a final ordainment of their skill. 

Applause and chatter rippled through the crowd and at last, the platters set out along a wooden table at the edge of the yard, were uncovered for the enjoyment of the guests. In truth, most attended for the food rather than the honours.  
“Feather,” Dwalin stopped the elf before she became too lost in conversation with Fili, “May I have a second before you celebrate?”

“Of course, Ada,” She assured and gave Fili a nervous nod to go ahead, “I didn’t mess up, did I?”

“No, you did wonderful,” He glanced over her shoulder and gestured to Thorin who waited with Dis, the shrouded axe still in his hand, “I merely wanted to give you something.”

Thorin neared from behind the elf and held out the gift to Dwalin who took it, fighting to keep his own excitement under wraps. “Congratulations, Feather,” Thorin bowed his head to elf, “You’ll ever be the only elf I admire.”

“Oh, stop it, Uncle,” She laughed and he chortled to himself as he slipped away as she turned back to Dwalin, “You didn’t have to get me a gift, Ada.”

“I wanted to,” He insisted and lifted the axe, offering it to her plainly, “Please, open it before I change my mind.”

“Well, you don’t have to twist my arm,” She took the axe slowly and he saw her fingers pressing through the wool as she tried to determine what was inside. She untied the twine swiftly and pushed back the wool, letting it drop into the grass as the axe head was revealed and she let out a joyous squeal. 

“Oh, Ada! You really didn’t have to.” She held up the weapon and admired the light against the blade’s edge, “My very own axe?”

“Your very own,” He smiled proudly as she lowered it with an admiring look, her mouth in an ‘o’ as her cheeks coloured once more, “You’ve earned it…and it means I don’t have to guard my own.”

“Ada!” She dropped the axe and embraced him all at once, nearly lifting him off his feet, “I love you.”

“Mmm,” He grunted as she released him and he could feel his own cheeks begin to burn, “Love you too, kid.”

“This is so lovely,” She bent to lift the axe and dust off the dirt, “May I go show Fili now?”

“Of course,” He could feel his throat tightening as he saw the tears of joy rising in her own eyes, “Go make that dwarf jealous, eh.”

“Thank you,” She said once more and smiled, leaning down to plant a kiss on his bald head before turning and bounding away.

Dwalin watched as she pushed into the crowd of Durin’s and held up her axe, Balin joining the fray as he came in late. He could see his brother issuing his apologies but Feather was too distracted by her new weapon. Dwalin crossed his arms and took in the scene with a hint of solemnity as he watched Feather spin the axe around as if it were nothing. He hoped he would not see the day when she would have to use it for real.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Feather surprises Dwalin but her Ada is none too happy.

Many would consider being early an admirable asset, but in Dwalin, Feather abhorred it. It was just like him to stomp up to the round door of hobbithole with his axes on his back and duty set in his shoulders a full two hours before the rendezvous time. The elf had watched from her hiding place in in a nearby tree, sighing as the familiar bald head disappeared inside. This rendered her plan futile. She had thought if she were to arrive first and to be awaiting the rest, they could not possibly make her go, not that they were the ones she needed to convince.

She had traveled halfway from Ered Luin with the Durin brothers who themselves had barely gained permission to go on the journey. It was only their dwarven blood and noble standing which had assured their passage and it stirred in Feather an unfamiliar sense of envy. It was hard not to be entirely aware that she was an elf raised among dwarves, but she had never been excluded so blatantly. She wanted them to return to The Mountain as fervently as any and she was willing to lay her ax at their feet but she was turned away.  _How was it not her right to see her Ada happy? To see him reclaim what had set in his eyes the stone that had overtaken his entire being?_

She had left Kili and Fili at a tavern along the way, promising that she would continue onward to meet Dis who had traveled to a nearby village to meet distant kin. Dis knew she would not arrive and had encouraged her in her plan to join the journey. Truly, it had been the matriarch’s idea. The most vocal of Dwalin’s critics and never one to be counter-measured, she had spoken in secret with Feather and colluded to insert her into the Company. Despite her own want to follow her king, Feather was hesitant that she would only make further enemies among the dwarves, though she had never given any cause beyond her blood for them to hate her.

As it was, she had shaken off her doubts and gone along with Dis’ plan, travelling swiftly to The Shire in hopes of introducing herself first. Yet now she was stuck up a literal tree.  _Why had Dwalin even taken her in if he didn’t trust her?_  For a moment, she pondered the question but quickly let it float away on the breeze. She knew deep down that he loved her, otherwise he would not have kept her around for so long or forged her an ax or fed and clothed and coddled her so. _He did love her, right? Even if she wasn’t truly his?_

With her natural elven grace, Feather slid down the tree as she watched the grasses blow and waited for the rest to arrive. She couldn’t just march in there when it was only Dwalin and the creature that inhabited the hole. She would have to be methodical, but she knew she could wait for Thorin as he was the opposite of Dwalin when it came to punctuality. Perhaps Balin could help her or the Durin brothers, though they wouldn’t be very impressed with her lies and their involuntary part in them.

Feather recognized many of the dwarves who followed, some from Ered Luin and others having gone abroad to work in mines and other grim toil. She was heartened as more and more arrived and as Balin appeared after the sixth, feather finally found her courage.  _Or was it stupidity?_  She had to be brave and face her maker…figuratively, of course. Dwalin was more fearsome than any imaginary monster that had stalked her bedroom in her childhood but she had never failed to withstand his disapproval, though she had never intentionally sought it out.

Checking that her ax was secure on her back alongside her pack, she stepped out from behind the tree and stretched her long limbs. Fitting through the small door would be the most awkward part, she reassured herself. Tossing her rosy blond curls out as a final reinforcement of her will, she began forward and silently approached the threshold of the house under the hill. Bunch up her slender fingers in a fist, she knocked and her stomach began to roil. She bit the inside of her lip to keep from shaking and the sound of the door being pulled inward set in her a final stake of fear which she swept away behind her elvish veneer.

“Good evening,” She greeted in a voice an octave higher than her usual tone, “I am here for the meeting…um, I am with the dwarves.”

“You?” The mousy little man looked up with wide eyes, “An elf?”

“Yes, an elf,” She asserted gruffly as she bent to speak with him, “Look, I know I’m a bit of a sore thumb but I assure you, I belong.”

“Um, alright, I suppose,” He slowly stepped back and gestured for her to enter, “You are much less pushy than them so I cannot begrudge you that.”

“Thanks,” She ducked under the low doorway and breathed out in relief as she began to peel of her pack, setting it with the rest before tossing down her ax beside it, “Just…don’t mind the yelling.”

“Yelling?” The man appeared even more confused than before, “What do you mean?”

“FEATHER ILLENA FUNDIN!” Feather’s formal name was boomed from behind her before she could even turn to the chatter of the dining room and every voice fell silent as Dwalin stood from the table.

Slowly, Feather turned around and watched as the bearlike dwarf rounded the benches and passed by several dwarves before shoving past the hobbit and standing before her with arms crossed. Showing a strained smile, she looked down at him and a nervous giggle came involuntarily from her lips. She could feel her cheeks begin to burn as she stared down Dwalin and she twiddled her fingers at her sides.

“Ada,” She greeted in a thin voice, “You’re looking…healthy.”

“In the week since you’ve seen me, girl, I should hope so,” He growled and she peeked over his shoulder to the numerous sets of dwarven eyes watching the scene in silent awe, “What in Mahal’s name are you doing here?”

“I, uh, um, oh…” She stumbled over her own tongue as she tried to remember what she had planned to say as she waited behind the tree, “I’ve come to pledge my ax?”

Her vow came out more a question against his grizzly scowl and she clutched her hands before herself, trying to still her nerves.

“I already told you no…a dozen times,” His voice had turned to a low whisper and it shook her more than any act of anger he had displayed in the past, “Why must you always persist in your trouble?”

“But, I only want to help, why won’t you let me?” She pleaded as she resolved not to be bullied away; she had come this far, “I’m older than both Kili and Fili and I know them to be on their way here right now.”

“Yes, but you…Feather,” He caught himself and she could see the thoughts reeling under his thick brow, “This is not your quest, I am sorry.”

“So, when you reach the Mountain,” She began hesitantly as the question came with a tinge of pain, “Will you just leave me behind? Erebor belongs to dwarves, as you say, so why would I ever be welcomed their if I cannot even help reclaim it.”

“Feather, that’s not what I meant,” Dwalin’s anger began to fade and his face fell as he realized his misspoken words, “I only mean that–”

“Ada, I love you but this is not your decision,” She interjected sharply as the pain grew in her chest, “I will await Thorin and ask him. It is his Company, after all, and he could use all the help he could get.”

“Don’t do this, Feather,” Dwalin warned and a knock followed before he could argue more.

All those within the small house had been enraptured by the feud and looked suddenly to the door which the mousy man approached with caution. He pulled it open precariously and two familiar voices sounded from without. “You must be Mr. Boggins,”

Feather remained silent as the two Durins invited themselves in and she avoided the reprimanding eyes of her Ada. Dwalin huffed as he dropped his arms and turned to the brothers, greeting them with the warmth he had withheld from her. She kept herself from frowning deeper and forced a smile onto her face as Fili noticed her with a twinkle of surprise in his eyes.

“Feather, what are you–” He looked around at the unusually silent crowd of dwarves, “Did we miss something?”

“Nothing,” Feather said in a soft voice, trying to hide the hurt which still reverberated through her, “I have come to request part in your journey. I am merely waiting for Thorin.”

“Really?” Kili stepped up beside his brother with his bright grin, “Well he will surely say yes. He must.”

“Let’s hope,” Feather replied and watched the dark-haired Durin as the golden-maned brother remained and watch as Dwalin retreated to the dining room with heavy steps.

“Feather, what happened?” Fili asked as his smile fell and he turned back to her, “Are you alright?”

“I’m just fine,” She answered much more sharply than intended and cleared her voice before changing her tone, “You know how he is, Fili. It’ll all be fine, right? Thorin will say yes, won’t he?”

“I can’t imagine him saying no but…if Dwalin has his say–”

“I am grown now, it is not his decision to make,” Feather sighed with exasperation as she kept her voice low and avoided looking at her glaring ada, “And he’ll be swallowing his words when I prove my worth to this journey. Just you wait and see. My ax is as sharp as his.”

With that, Feather fell silent and Fili looked around the room to smile at the other dwarves, though he stayed by her side. She sat on the small bench awkwardly which stood just inside the door and he did the same, a single ally as she awaited her fate. He would be useful if she were to soften Thorin from his loyalty to his oldest friend.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tension continue to rise between Feather and Dwalin.

Feather huffed for the dozenth time as she trailed behind the company of dwarves, hobbit, and wizard. Even with them on ponies, she could have outwalked them all if she had set her mind to it. She’d be at the head of the party with her axe in hand but she knew better. She had already provoked the ire of her Ada merely by appearing at the Shire and the rest of the dwarves feared his wrath so much they dare not show her any particular favour.

Only Fili and Kili were overly friendly, too young and careless to be concerned with Dwalin’s displeasure. As it was, they were well used to being the bane of the grizzly dwarf. Thorin had spoken with her the morning they had left the hobbit hole. He had admitted that he had been privy to Dis’ plans to send her upon the quest and Feather questioned why he had not defended her more avidly. The usually outspoken king had merely stood and watched as his oldest friend reprimanded her.

After that, Feather had taken Thorin’s inaction to heart and now held him a grudge. As she kept a steady pace, nearly in stride with the short-legged ponies, she sighted the king’s shoulders and furrowed her brow. Not far behind him rode Dwalin and upon focusing upon the tails of his thinning hair, she felt her heart drop. She was as angry with the dwarf as she was with his king and yet, it made her heart clench to know she displeased him so.

The night before had been sleepless for her. And her Ada. She was not so ignorant as to not have noticed his constant brooding. He had nearly glared a hole in her from across the cave, his burly arms crossed and his beard doing little to conceal his ever-present scowl. It was as if he had taken watch to spite her and keep her up with his endless resent.

They stopped to make camp as the sun began to set and Feather kept her distance from the rest. She was not the only one who played the outcast. The hobbit, dejected by Thorin, tossed a pebble in his hand as his nose twitched and he seemed to ponder whether to turn back. Feather tiptoed towards him, nearly frightening him as her tall shadow loomed over him in the evening light.

“Oh, hello,” He greeted her meekly, “Feather, is it?”

“Hi,” She replied with a nod, her voice small, “I wouldn’t let Thorin get to you. He’s just stubborn.”

“Is he?” Bilbo asked nervously, “It seems more than that.”

“Trust me, I know,” She looked around the camp, “Dwarves are just that type, you know? Hard to please.”

“That bald one…Dwalin, he’s your father?”

“Yes,” She answered with a sigh, “Though I suspect he might be changing his mind about that.”

“Surely not,” The hobbit comforted, “That’s not what family does. He’s scared for you. This is a dangerous quest and he wants to keep you safe.”

“I keep telling myself that but I just can’t seem to believe it,” Feather hung her head, “Oh well, I suppose. Not much I can do to change his mind.”

“Oi, Feather,” Fili’s voice made both elf and hobbit flinch in surprise, “Dinner?”

The blonde prince approached with his brother at his side, each holding a pair of bowls in their hands. Fili offered his spare dish to her and Kili to Bilbo. The dejected pair of loners accepted their stew with mumbled thanks as the Durin brothers smiled back at them.

“How about we go find somewhere quiet to eat?” Fili chimed, “These bunch of geezers are no fun.”

“Yeah, sure,” Feather grumbled, happy to get away from the Company as she felt the heat of Dwalin’s gaze once more, “Anywhere but here.”

Fili led you the grassy lea where the ponies had been stable, a small fence closing them in. Feather sat on a post as the others leaned against the wooden slats and she listened to the cheerful voices of her oldest friend. The Durin princes were always a spot of sunlight when times were dark but even they could not chase away the shadow of her Ada’s disapproval.

“What am I going to do?” She asked without thinking, her mind running wild.

“What?” Kili puzzled as he looked to her with surprise at her sudden words.

“Dwalin,” Fili answered solemnly, “Look, Feather, I’m afraid there’s not much you can do but wait it out. You know his tempers better than any and he’s not one to talk things out.” Fili touched her elbow warmly, “Trust me, I’ve sparked his ire a bit too many times for comfort…the good thing is he loves you, no matter what.”

“Does he?” Feather set aside her empty dish, “Maybe I’ve outgrown him…”

“Don’t say that, Feather,” Fili sounded horrified, “You know he loves you. You’re his daughter and you’d break his heart if he heard you talking like that.”

“Really? Because it seems he couldn’t be more eager to have me gone.”

“Come on,” He tugged on her wrist, “Let’s go for a walk and forget about those grumpy old dwarves and their ridiculous gripes.”

Feather did not move, frowning as she brushed back a curl from her face. Fili kept hold of her other arm and pulled on it once more.

“Now, I mean it,” He kept on until she removed herself from the post, “Good, now let’s go find some trouble. For old times’ sake.”

* * *

This was bad. Very bad. Fili had only thought to cheer up Feather and not truly intended on finding trouble. That there were trolls waiting in the pass was bad luck. That they had failed to keep the ponies in their pen was worse. 

Traipsing back to camp, or rather stumbling over their own feet in a panic, the dwarven brothers and their elven companion worried they would not be quick enough for the hobbit who had foolishly gone on a rescue mission for his ponies.

Feather was quicker than them, her legs longer and lither. She was the first to break the line of camp and she nearly toppled Thorin as she did. She was not so out of breath as the dwarves but he could see the tension in her as she faced the king. 

“Trolls,” She sputtered, “Nearby…They’ve taken all the ponies.”

“Ah, for Mahal’s sake,” Dwalin was the first to speak as he took up his ax resolutely, “Can’t trust the lot of ye.”

“It was my fault,” Fili spoke up, “I was told to keep an eye on the ponies but I didn’t listen.”

“I told ye, ye not ready, Feather,” Dwalin made to brush past his daughter who stopped him, blocking him with the hilt of her axe, “Stay here,” He pushed away her weapon, “Ye’ll only get yourself into more trouble.”

“I can hold my own,” She insisted, though despite standing more than a foot taller than him, she seemed to shrink before him, “I belong on this quest as much as you. I’m your daughter and I’ll make you proud.”

“You’re just another worry on my shoulders,” He growled and Fili could’ve smacked the old dwarf for the hurt he sparked in the Feather’s lilac eyes.

Dwalin pushed past his daughter, setting off behind Thorin and the rest who had grabbed their arms and were setting off to save their ponies from the trolls’ cauldron.

“Feather, don’t listen to—” Fili neared the elf but she moved away from him.

“I’ll prove him wrong,” She vowed with tears in her eyes, “Just wait.”

She raised her axe and ran after the small army of dwarves, Fili and Kili sharing a look of concern before following. Dwalin would drive Feather to recklessness but both were too stubborn to see past the other.

* * *

Dwalin was nearly bowled over as a flash of strawberry blond swept past him. Feather’s curls floated around her as she spun around with axe in hand. She was quicker than Dwalin had ever been and seemed untouchable among the battle of dwarves and trolls. She climbed up the leg of a troll, leaving slashes along its flesh with the edge of her blade.

He would have admired her prowess if the sight of her being tossed away by the troll didn’t cause his chest to seize. She rolled across the dirt, back on her feet as quickly as she had descended. She turned to him, bringing her axe up as if to decapitate him and Dwalin only then heard the heavy footstep behind him. Feather batted away the troll’s knife and forced it backwards, away from her ada.

Dwalin swore under his breath as he fell back into the motion of battle. This was why he could not bear to have Feather upon the quest. He could not even think of seeing her harmed and to think she set her life between him and another. Already, he had put her in danger’s path and he did not want to be the reason for her pain.

He had not saved her from the darkness of that cave to have her meet her end on his behalf.

Dwalin shoved past a troll’s leg, setting himself between Feather and the battle. He swung his axe in a full arc, forming a perimeter between the flurry of chaos and his daughter. She would not be touched, not while he was around.


	7. Chapter 7

Dwalin trailed behind the rest, a sneer curling the corners of his lips. His eyes roved the lines of elves which walked on either side of the company, searching for any glimmer of suspicion. Yet his attention wandered once more to the only elf he would ever trust. Feather’s rose-tinted curls caught the sunlight as she walked between the Durin brothers, her interest in her own kind all too obvious.

Her lilac irises dilated as she first set her sights on her own race. It was the same look she had worn when she would sneak his axe from its hiding place as a child. Since, she had been unusually quiet, observing the lithe elves who did the same in turn. Dwalin was all too aware of how the Rivendell elves watched his daughter and the way a particularly rosy cheeked sentinel had introduced himself to her not moments ago.

He was angry at her obstinacy, her insistence upon joining their quest, and yet his heart clenched as his fears whirled wildly. When they had run from the orcs, he had lost sight of her, only to find her fending off several of the foe upon her own. She was able, he had trained her well and she had a natural elvish agility, but it did not make the scene any less unsettling. The thought her falling to their blades, her blood being drawn… _had he not saved her from the same back in that cave?_

Dwalin had thrown himself amidst the fray. His axe shattering an orc’s blade as he herded Feather away from them. He remanded her harshly, telling her to keep close to the rest lest she was left behind. But he could never leave her behind, he’d rather himself be the one to fall. Her violet eyes caught his as he barked at her and he saw the hurt blooming within. _Why did he say things he did not mean?_

When they had joined the others, barreling headlong into the cave, she had kept her distance. She had found her uncle, Balin, and she shared with him a most heart-wrenching pout. It was starting to seem that Dwalin more harm to his own daughter than the beasts along the road. But he had told her not to come. A dozen times over. And as always, she had not listened. He knew what was best for her.

An elvish palace stood before them, slender and ethereal beneath the setting sun. Feather grabbed Fili’s arm as she pointed to the looming towers in awe. The elder prince chuckled and marveled alongside her. The dwarves were her true family, Dwalin only prayed she did not forget that.

Or perhaps, that’s was what he had truly feared. That she would leave him. That she would choose her own kind over his brutishness. He shuddered at the thought.

Inside, a great hall was set with long tables and more elves awaited. The sat along the benches supping from golden plates and others stood along the walls, watching the party of dwarves as they streamed in like a skein of ducklings. 

Feather was stopped by a dark-haired elf not far from the throne of their king. His dark hair shone in the candlelight as he smiled warmly at the elf disguised as an overgrown dwarrowdam.

Her smile came easily as she began to chatter with the elvish sentinel and Dwalin watched unwaveringly as he sat blindly at the table. She was of a height with the elf, for once not having to stoop to speak with another. Her amusement at the elf’s words was wearing on her Ada as a growl brewed in his throat. The rumble traveled down the table and he felt an elbow poking his ribs.

“Brother,” Balin broke Dwalin’s trance, “This is not the place to be snarling.”

“I’m not,” Dwalin insisted as he crossed his arms and glared across the hall at his daughter.

“You could have fooled me,” Balin mused, “She’s curious, that’s all. She has every right to be. She’s never seen any like herself. It must be quite the shock.”

“Must be,” Dwalin grumbled as he flexed his arms and squinted; the elf had stepped closer to Feather, “Though I dare say the one she’s talking to has…”

“They’ve likely not seen an elf so dwarflike, brother, it is an unusual mix.”

“Not that unusual,” Dwalin stood suddenly, nearly knocking over the bench below the rest upon it, Ori barely held in place by Dori, “I swear I’m gonna—”

Dwalin was already rolling up his sleeves as he climbed over the bench and Balin looked over to find the elf’s hand upon Feather’s shoulder. It was a friendly gesture but in her Ada’s eyes it was untoward. Dwalin stomped around the table, the company’s attention drawn by his motion as they watched him approach his daughter.

“Oi,” Dwalin planted himself beside Feather and reached up to knock the elf’s hand from her shoulder, “I don’t know the rites of elves but we don’t touch dams like that.”

“Ada,” Feather exclaimed, “He was only being nice.”

“Nice my arse,” Dwalin blustered, “Let me tell about elves. They.” He jabbed a finger into the elf’s chest, a farcical display as he was much shorter than the sentinel, “Are.” He jabbed again, doing so with each word, “Not. To. Be. Trusted.”

“So, you’ve reminded me all too often,” Feather pulled his hand away from the elf, sending him an apologetic look, “I know you don’t trust elves, Mahal, you don’t even trust your own daughter,” She shook her head as he eyes sparkled with restrained tears, “If that’s even what I am too you anymore. If I ever was.”

“Don’t you do that, Feather,” He turned on her, “You’ll ever be my daughter, but Mahal dammit it if you’ll ever listen to me. I told you, you’ve no place on this quest. You’ll only get yourself hurt.” He fumed, “What were you doing back on the plain, huh? I won’t always be there to save you.”

“I can take care of myself, Ada, why can’t you see that?” Her voice had never been so harsh and it stunned Dwalin to hear her angry, her eyes were nearly black in her ire, “What must I do to make you see?”

“You’re naïve. You don’t know what lays ahead of us, Feather.” Dwalin asserted, “But I won’t continue to call on deaf ears.”

“You don’t have to save me, Ada,” Her face had turned to stone as she backed away from, “Maybe you should’ve left me in that cave, eh.”

Feather turned on her heel and marched towards the door they had entered through, her curls rippling behind her before she disappeared. Dwalin stood senseless as if he had been slapped. He wanted to follow her but could not urge himself to move. He was afraid to. Afraid that she would not let him near. That he had lost her in a way worse than he ever imagined.

_What had he done?_

* * *

Feather lost herself in the corridor before she could think to look where she was going. Her tears threatened to spill forth but she mustered all her strength to hold them back. She was done crying over her Ada. She could not think of what else to do.

She peered down the elvish hall, the candles like floating orbs along the stone and the glass windows giving light to the stars outside. She threw up her hands and sighed, leaning against the wall and sliding down so that she sat with knees bent. She crossed her arms atop her knees and let her head fall forward. Maybe she didn’t belong with the dwarves.

But she couldn’t dream of leaving her Ada.  _Didn’t he know that it scared her even to think that he set himself between her and danger? That when he raised his axe against another she could not breathe? Did he detest her so much that he could not see her love for him? Had she made a mistake in listening to Dis and worming her way along on the journey?_

Footsteps sounded not far off. She was assured these were not her Ada’s as they were much too light. Feather kept her head down and waited for them to pass, to continue down the next corridor. But they didn’t. They padded closer and closer until they stopped before her. She looked up shyly at Fili as he bore a sympathetic smile.

“I knew I’d find you eventually,” He tilted his head, “It’s easier than you’d think to get lost in these elvish halls.”

“I know,” Feather said dully, leaning her head against the wall weakly.

“You shouldn’t listen to Dwalin,” Fili advised as he lowered himself onto the floor beside her, “If there’s one thing I know of the dwarf, it’s that he’s not so good at expressing himself.”

“I think he’s made his feelings perfectly clear,” Feather frowned, “I’m an idiot for thinking I could ever come along. That there’d be a place for me in Erebor.”

“Are you mad, Feather? You belong with us, wherever we go,” Fili avowed, “He’ll never admit it, but Dwalin is just…scared. We all are.”

“You don’t think this is where I belong?” She dared to look over at the prince as he watched her intently, “With my own kind?”

“Trust me, you might look like them, Feather, but you definitely don’t belong with them. They’re boring and uptight,” Fili elbow her playfully, “Besides, what would I do without you? Kili would drive me crazy.”

Feather couldn’t help but smile as she looked away, pretending to examine the lines of her palm. He was right. She couldn’t leave them. Even if her Ada hated her, the rest did not, and she loved them in turn. She couldn’t bear to hurt Balin or Thorin, her favourite uncles. Or her two closest friends, Fili and Kili. The brothers would never have survived her Ada’s temper had it not been for her and vice versa.

Even if she wanted to, she couldn’t leave the company. She had made a vow to Dis that she would reached the Mountain and only death could keep her from her word.


	8. Chapter 8

Feather was stunned as she stared across the distance. The sky was edged with a gentle pink, a soft blue sweeping the horizon. The Mountain stood dark against it, a stark giant awaiting them. It seemed so close and yet still so far. Even just the sight of it struck Feather speechless. She had never dreamed of seeing it for real.

Even so, she may never walk its halls. Not if her Ada had anything to say. It seemed that while the Company fought the elements and orcs along their trek, she was forced to battle her own father. Every step grew harder as he grew distant and she felt herself struggling to keep close to him. There were days he never even spoke to her. She had brought him his supper not a few nights earlier and he hadn’t so much as looked at her.

Feather was drawn from her sullen thoughts by a sudden commotion, turning to watch as Thorin rose from his stupor. He looked towards her and smiled, though she knew he gazed upon the Mountain and not the rosy-cheeked elf at the edge of the cliff. The hobbit stood behind him, surprised when the dwarven king set his attention upon him and pulled him into a hearty embrace. It was an endearing scene but one which fed Feather’s melancholy.

She wished Dwalin would hold her thus, as he did when she was a child. It had seemed so simple then. Even when she misbehaved, he could still laugh at her folly and forget it within the same day. Perhaps it was that she had still been only a harmless elfling.  _Did her Ada now see her as he did the rest of her race? Had she become his enemy?_

She looked to Dwalin who stood away from the rest. His arms were crossed as he ignored the reconciliation and kicked at the dirt. He seemed disinterested in all but his anger. Feather sighed and turned away once more. It hurt more when she watched him, when she saw how little he truly cared for her; how much she had hurt him. Perhaps it was better that she turned back.

“I always knew Dwalin was a bigger curmudgeon than even Thorin,” Fili intoned as he stepped up next to you, “But it doesn’t mean he won’t come around…eventually.”

“Eventurally?” You grumbled, “How many times have I swung my axe in his defense? I don’t think I could do anything to make him love me again.”

“Again? He still loves you, Feather,” Fili said without doubt, “The old fool just doesn’t deal with emotion well.”

Feather shrugged as she brushed a curl away from her face, “I wish I could believe that.” She uttered and walked away from him, holding back the blur of tears as they rose, “I wish.” She whispered to herself, peeking over her shoulder at her Ada as he refused to look at her in turn.

* * *

Feather ignored the pain tearing at her elbow, the flesh burning as the air whisked against it. She ran faster than any, her long legs taking her further in a single step than a dwarf got with three. Even so, she made sure not to stray too far from the rest, keeping watch over her shoulder so she did not lose sight of them. Just behind them was a pack of orcs, the very ones who had dealt her her wound.

She slowed her pace as they neared the open gate of a towering wooden barricade, another closed just beyond it. The dwarves streamed into the open courtyard, barrelling against the door frantically. As Thorin pushed past several of his company and lifted the bar holding shut the doors, Feather felt a stab of pain in her arm as someone pulled her inside.

“Stay close,” It was all Dwalin had said to her in days, but it offered her no reassurance.

Feather watched as he rescinded his hand, following the others as he looked down at the blood which stained his fingers. He wiped her blood on his road-worn trousers and she heard a growl she recognized all too well. He was angry at her merely for being fallible.

Gripping her wounded elbow, Feather joined the rest, finding herself her own resting place in the hay-littered barn. Fili sat beside her as he often did but offered her none of his usual comfort. He merely watched as she examined the gash along her arm, frowning with pity. Heavy footsteps neared the pair and she looked up to find her Ada glaring down at them.

“Here,” He pulled a kerchief from his belt with a sigh, tossing it at her, “I told you you’d get yourself hurt.”

“You’ve had worse,” She retorted, “It won’t kill me.”

Dwalin shook his head and snarled before turning away. Feather watched him as she lifted the cloth from atop her lap. She wetted it with her water skin and dabbed at the tender open flesh of her elbow. She held back her whimpers as she did, all the while trying to ignore the dwarf beside her.

“Would you quit?” She finally snapped as she looked to Fili, “I’m fine.”

“You don’t seem fine,” Fili answered calmly, “But neither does Dwalin. He’s worried for you. I saw the look on his face when he noticed your blood.”

“What do you know? He always looks perturbed. He was likely more annoyed that I got my blood on him.”

“Don’t be a fool, Feather,” Fili hissed, “You’re as bad as he is.”

“Maybe so,” She tied the cloth around her elbow awkwardly, “But I’ll never be the same as him. I’ll only ever be an elf…I don’t belong.”

* * *

Dwalin pulled Feather into the courtyard, the familiar distracted cloud having filled her lilac eyes. It seemed of late she was always lost in some thought, but he wasn’t dumb enough not to realize why. He had never seen her so somber in her life. She had always been a shining light in the dusk of his life.

“Stay close,” He commanded, pulling away his hand.

His fingers were sticky as he passed through the tall wooden gates and he looked down at his scarlet tinted fingers. He blanched as he realized where the blood had come from, having no pain of his own. He resisted looking back at Feather, embarrassed to do so after how he had treated her. He couldn’t help but feel horrid realizing he must have hurt her with his touch even more.

The more he distanced himself from her, the more difficult the journey. At first, he had truly been mad at her. Upset that she had disobeyed him and worried that she would find herself in peril. It irked him further when she repeatedly set herself in the way of danger.  _Why couldn’t she just listen to him and go home? Why did she have to come along and make him worry so?_ His heart had never felt so wrought.

He dragged his feet into the barn, pacing against the far wall as he watched the rest enter. Feather didn’t even look around; her natural curiosity having vanished. Her eyes no longer seemed so vibrant and she didn’t smile as she always had. It was the first he had seen her frown for more than a moment. Sorrow had shadowed her all day and it was all his fault.

She sat in the corner, Fili joining her soon after. More and more often, Dwalin noticed the two together. They had always been nigh inseparable, but something had changed, though they seemed not to realize it themselves. He watched as she looked at her elbow, a grimace contorting her delicate features.

Dwalin neared reluctantly. He wanted to apologize to her but could not think of the words to do so. He was too embarrassed to. He pulled his kerchief out and made to hand it to her as he spoke, “Here. I told you you’d get yourself hurt.”  _Why did he say that?_ That was all wrong.

He had wanted to tell her he would always be there when she was hurt. That he’d always see her through the pain, to clean her wounds and tend her sicknesses. But all that had come out was fear and self-doubt. She reproached him, but he did not hear her for his own self-loathing. He snarled at himself and turned away from her, berating himself as he did.

Dwalin flopped heavily onto his backside, covering his face with his hands. He shook his head as he felt his cheeks burn and sighed helplessly. He could not bear to look at Feather. He had been so cruel to her and all he did was make it worse. He was a right donkey’s ass and he just didn’t know how to change it.


	9. Chapter 9

Feather’s anxiety only grew the further they walked into the tainted forest. The dwarves and single hobbit seemed to reel with each step, mumbling with paranoia and looking around at the trees as if they would come to life. The flora was driving them mad, yet Feather’s mind was clear. She was untouched by the insanity but incensed that she could not rid the Company of theirs.

Gandalf had warned them. The forest was dangerous, but it was their only path forward. He had warned Feather of other dangers, too. Mirkwood was the land of those who had betrayed Erebor, but more significantly, elves. She was once more to meet her own kind though the wizard had been adamant they not be trusted so easily as their Rivendell kin.

I am an elf, too, Feather thought as she followed the line of rambling dwarves, recalling her harried exchange with Gandalf. Am I so untrustworthy? It that why my own father has disowned me?

She kicked through the leaves, hanging her head mournfully. Perhaps Dwalin wasn’t her father anymore. He never truly had been, had he? A dwarf and an orphaned elf; how ludicrous. How had she ever convinced herself that she was accepted among the dwarves of Erebor. Such a noble folk, wise to distrust those of elvish blood. What was it they said? Keep your enemies close.

Fili and Kili clung to each other not far ahead, whispering lunacy. The company kept formation, keeping close enough to see the next. If one should stray, they could all be lost. She had kept her self-pity at bay minding them, making sure none wandered off. If she was the only with her sanity in tact, she would not let them down. Even if they thought her traitor.

Feather did not realize she had been watching Dwalin until he veered suddenly away from the others. Balin nearly followed but she waved him towards the Durin brothers, the line trailing without pause. She caught her ada’s arm before he could walk off the edge of a bluff. He grunted in fright, turning back to her, his maddened grey eyes piercing her.

“There are elves,” He hissed as he glanced side to side, “They aim to kill us.”

“Ada, they’re not here,” She assured him, “Come on, we cannot lose the others,” She tried to pull him back to the path, but he planted his feet, continuing his hysterics.

“I am an elf!” She proclaimed shrilly, “The only elf here, ada. Please, we must go.”

“Elves! Abominable creatures,” He reached to touch his axe, “Cannot be trusted.”

Feather knew he did not mean her, but it stung all the same. Did he know it was her before him? If he did not, perhaps he did speak his true feelings. She gulped and tugged on his arm once more. He was distracted and relinquished his resistance. He let her guide him back, all whilst grumbling.

“Thorin must know there are elves here,” He announced as they came upon the rear of the company, “And Feather—”

Dwalin suddenly grasped his chest as his eyes widened. His lip trembled but he said nothing more, nodding to himself madly. Feather released his arm, watching him tramp ahead of her. She hoped they passed through this cursed place quickly, she feared the madness would soon touch upon her.

Dwalin felt as if he had awoken from a long sleep. All was clear around him once more, his axe guiding him. Whenever he wielded the well-forged weapon, he was whole. Instinct overtook him, pushing him forward. And Feather. She was all that mattered, and he would swing his axe until he was assured of her safety, even if it meant his in exchange. Even if she did hate him.

His axe sliced through the spindly leg of a gargantuan spider, the creature squealing as it fell and Dwalin hacked away the rest of its limbs. The next scuttled towards him and he cut it down in stride. Another bore down upon Feather, her rose curls bouncing as she leapt over it, running lithely over its back to plunge her sword through it.

Another was behind her, but she did not sense it. A knife caught the arachnid in its cluster of ugly eyes and it fell heavily with a shriek. Fili grinned in triumph as Feather nodded in admiration but Dwalin frowned. He should have been the one watching over her. He should have been there first. He could not linger though as the hoard of spiders grew around them and he slashed and swung to keep them at arm’s length.

An arrow whistled through the air but Kili’s bow was not aloft and several others flew in quick succession. Dwalin turned as the spiders fell around them, his confusion turning to distaste at the sight of the tall figures limned in yellow sunlight. A dozen elves stood, bows notched and aimed at the company of dwarves. Thorin sighed and tossed aside his sword, a signal for the rest to follow suit.

Dwalin’s breath caught in his chest as he dropped his axe, and searched for Feather in the clearing. She stood just behind Fili, her hand tightening on her axe handle before releasing it reluctantly. Her face was pallid with anger and disquiet, perhaps even fear. Fili reached to touch the cuff of her sleeve, his own eyes flashing dangerously.

Dwalin had not heard most of the silver elf’s words as he examined Thorin’s elvish sword, but he was pulled back by the sudden change in tone.

“Well, what do we have here?” The blonde leader pushed aside Oakenshield, setting his sights on Feather, “An elf among dwarves? How curious.”

Dwalin saw the subtle twitch in his daughter’s lip and her shoulder’s tense. She was unmoving as she stared down the elf approaching her. Fearless. He would have been proud if he was not so worried for her. Dwalin edged nearer, stopping next to Fili who was just as tense.

“Where do you hail from?” The leader grinned at Feather who growled in response. The glint in his eyes repulsed Dwalin and set a shock of rage through him.

“Ered Luin,” Feather answered unflinchingly.

“The Blue Mountains belong to the dwarves,” The elf scoffed, “Even if you travel with these…” He looked around with distaste, “Creatures, it does not make you one of them.”

“I care not if you believe me,” Feather sneered.

“Peculiar, even for an elf,” He took one of her curls between his fingers, “Such beautiful hair.”

He leaned in, an attempt to intimidate her but she did not flinch. Even so, it unsettled Dwalin and he was moving before he knew it. Elves and dwarves alike were taken aback as he shoved the silver elf away from his daughter, punching him in the stomach with all this might. As the elf bent over in pain and surprise, Dwalin seized his collar and struck him across the face.

“Don’t you touch my daughter!” He raised his fist again even as he heard bowstrings being pulled. “I’ll kill ya! You hear me.”

He felt a warmth upon his hand which kept him from his next blow. “Ada,” Feather’s voice was gentle. She was kneeling beside him so that she was slightly shorter than him, “Please. They’ll kill you.”

“I—” He choked on his words as he looked around at the elves then back to her. Her lilac eyes begged him too surrender.

“I’m alright, ada, he did not hurt me,” She unballed his fist and twined her fingers in his, “Now don’t let them hurt you.”

“I’m sorry,” He grumbled, watching as the silver elf rose and wiped away the blood trickling from both nose and lip, “I didn’t—”

As the silver elf reached to grab Dwalin in return, Feather caught his arm and held it steady, all while keeping hold of her ada.

“Don’t,” She commanded, even on her knees she was intimidating, “He was merely concerned. He will resist no further.”

“He better not,” The silver elf hissed, though he looked tempted to strike Dwalin anyways, “If he does, you’ll both pay the price.” He kicked dirt towards them as he turned, “Now, up! The lot of you get moving.”

Feather breathed a sigh of relief as she stood releasing her father as she dusted off her knees. “Are you alright, Ada?”

“Are you, dear?” He wanted to take her hand back, but he sensed the same tension once more forming between them.

“I’m fine,” She insisted with a sniff, “But don’t you go getting yourself killed over an elf.”

With that, she turned and followed the others as they were ushered forward by the glowering elves. Dwalin huffed and fell into step, shaking his head at himself as he examined his bloodied knuckles. The hopelessness of their capture dawned on him and he cringed as he realized what he had done. They were likely to be imprisoned in Mirkwood and he had merely stoked their anger. 

Worse, he had drawn further attention to Feather.


	10. Chapter 10

Feather knew her ada was awake. She had always had the comfort of his thunderous growls on dark nights, the rumble fearsome enough to scare away any monsters. And when she had nightmares, she would creep down the hallway and snuggle with him in his small bed, big enough just for the two of them. She would hide in his arms away from the creatures hiding in the dark. She wished he would hold her then, but she doubted he felt the same. Besides, she was much too big for such childish whims.

So, she crossed her arms over her knees and pulled her legs near, huddling against the wall against the chill of the cells. They had stripped the company of all but their clothing, going so far as to confiscate their cloaks. Feather reached back and felt the braid her ada had put in her hair, the bead he had fashioned to hold it. He had twined it the day she had completed her training and become a warrior; though that had not truly come until the journey began.

She hugged her arms over her chest once more and peeked across the corridor, Dwalin’s figure a shadow in a cell not far from her own. Staring across at his big-nosed profile, she felt tears gather in her eyes and she sniffed them away. She heard movement in the cell next to hers and Fili’s thick fingers tapped gently on her door, barely reaching from behind his own.

“You alright, Feather?” He asked, “We’ll get out of here. Don’t you fret. Bilbo will find a way to get to us.”

“I don’t care about that,” She fought the tightness constricting her throat.

“Oh…him,” Fili was the only she had confided in throughout her struggle with her ada and he had been a shoulder to lean on as ever, “I told you, he’ll come around.”

“No, no, I think maybe…When we were captured he was so stupid,” She whispered, making sure her ada could not eavesdrop, “He shouldn’t have done that for me. He angered the prince and—what if they do punish him?”

“It would be worth it and he would agree,” Fili countered, “Dwalin would give anything for you. Just because of all this nonsense on our quest, you can’t just turn away from him. He’s still your father and, to be honest, I envy you that. Thorin’s a great uncle but he’s not my father.”

“I’m…I’m sorry, Fili,” Feather stuttered, “Sometimes I can be so selfish, I forget.”

“Not at all. I can’t hold it against you, why you lost your mother before you even knew her.”

“But I got to share yours,” Feather smiled despite her grief, “I’m lucky and maybe I should’ve listened to ada. I never wanted to put him in danger or cause him any trouble. I just wanted to help.”

“And you have. We’d never have gotten this far without you and don’t let anyone tell you otherwise. Especially Dwalin,” Feather touched Fili’s fingers as he talked, absorbing the warmth which resonated from him.

“Thank you,” She kept her voice low as she heard faint elvish footsteps nearing, “Someone’s coming.”

“What are you—” Fili’s dwarvish ears were not adept enough to sense the approach.

“Am I interrupting?” The prince’s voice pierced the dark as he appeared with a glass lantern in hand, “You dwarves talk to much,” He missed Fili’s hand as he kicked Feather’s door maliciously, sneering towards Kili’s cell just long the way.

“Well, perhaps you elves could let us be and we wouldn’t do so,” Fili spat, “It’s that redhead who’s frequenting these parts. We’ve not much of a say.”

“Funny,” Legolas curled his lip and turned his back to Fili, “I’m not here to waste my breath on dwarven idiocy,” He watched as Feather stood and grimaced at him.

“Go away,” She hissed, “I’m too tired for your nonsense.”

“You’ve been in the company of these fools for far too long. You don’t know what’s good for you,” Legolas rolled his eyes, “Which is why my father has requested your presence. He is curious of this elf without grace.”

“Well I’ve no interest in meeting him so you best go and tell him,” Feather reached and batted the lantern from his hand, “Else I’ll set your trousers on fire.”

Legolas barely dodged the lantern as it tumbled and shouted. Feather spied movement over his shoulder and saw Dwalin watching intently from his door, his large nose poking out between the bars.

“My father said nothing of your willingness,” Legolas kicked aside the shattered glass and took a keyring from his belt, swiftly unlocking Feather’s cell, “Come on. Before you force me to be uncivil.”

“Let go,” Feather swung at the prince and he barely dodged her fist before she swung another, this one catching his chin. He reached up to touch his jaw in shock, quickly regaining himself and lunging for his adversary. Feather and Legolas struggled until another slender figure appeared behind him, the elvish guard aiding his prince in subduing the prisoner.

“You louts! Don’t touch her,” Dwalin shouted as he shook the bars of his cell as if trying to rip the door free, “I’ll kill you. I swear it on Mahal!”

The commotion had awoken those dwarves who had slumbered. Fili was as loud as Dwalin and the rest cried out their opposition. Feather continued to resist as she was pulled out of her cell, arms twisted behind her back. She craned her head to look back at her ada and he quieted at her glance, his face contorted with desperation. “I love you,” He mouthed to her before she was forced away.

“I love you, too,” She shouted back at him, “Ada! Ada!”

Dwalin resumed his yelling as she was dragged further down the corridor and she took strength from his voice. She would see him again, she vowed. He was her ada and he had never let her down before. He had always stood unflickering between her and the dark.

* * *

Feather was finding that elves were hard to tell apart. The silver king upon his elaborate throne looked much like the prince who had dragged her before him. In Rivendell, many of the elves were slender and flawless, wearing garments nearly uniform in style, thus it was that she wondered if she looked like her mother. Perhaps she truly was an oddity.

She nearly struck Legolas again as he and the elvish guard released her but withheld her anger for the new threat before her. Thranduil was more imperious than his son and age lent him an heir of wisdom lacking in his self-concerned offspring. There was a cynicism about him too and Feather could sense the disapproval beneath his well-concealed curiosity. He seemed barely to notice as she cursed under her breath and watched her escorts retreat.

“Even under those dwarven rags and lack of grace, your as much an elf as I’ve ever seen,” He mused, lifting a finely shaped brow, “My son is easily intrigued but I daresay I understand the appeal.” He stood, menacingly descending the steps from his throne. He neared Feather and looked her over, pulling upon one of her curls as Legolas had, “Were you raised by those beast in my dungeons? Or have you merely latched onto them in some misled mission of atonement?”

“My father is a dwarf,” Feather fought to keep her nerve. She could be resistant and boisterous, but her actions could lead to the suffering of her friends. “The greatest man I’ve ever known…will ever know.”

“Hmm, I doubt he has so much esteem for you. These dwarves, they haven’t any sense of respect or realism. They do not realize how small they are in this world. There are more important matters than a mountain…” He paused, his lip twitching so subtly Feather barely noticed, “Your father, a dwarf? He raised you?”

“From a babe. He found me in a cave.” Feather felt that the past was washing over her. All Dwalin had done for her, all the love he had shown her.  _How had she come to be so insolent? How could she ever doubt him?_  “My mother had been slain by orcs.”

“Oh, how divine,” Thranduil purred, “A dwarf rescuing a helpless elfling. And your mother already slain? How convenient.”

“It was after a battle,” Feather did not know why she was so quick to be defensive but the elvenking made her uncertain, “There were orcs lingering and the dwarves were only trying to get home.”

“I do not doubt it,” He slithered as he tilted his head, “Or perhaps, it is easier to tell a happy story than the truth. To have slaughtered an innocent elf based on petty grudges only to realize she had a child…Pity.”

Feather suddenly felt as if there was a stone laying atop her chest, her breath came with difficulty and her head spun. She could not believe her ada could commit an act so callous and then lie about it for so long. Yet, she has witnessed his distaste for elves and at times, it had even turned upon her. He had fought her every step of the journey and why?  _Because she was an elf._

“No…” She exhaled slowly, “He’d never—”

“In his guilt, he raised the child, concealing his crime from her,” Thranduil put on a voice filled with grief, “And now he reclaims his home, with that same elf at his side. It’s almost farcical…or perhaps, he did not wish you to come along with him. Elves are only valuable allies to dwarves for so long before the relationship dissolves. Dwarves are easily overcome by their inherent greed and prejudices.”

“Don’t say that!” Feather lashed out, the elvenking catching her hand before she could slap him.

“The truth can be painful, but it is better said,” He held her in place, seemingly unfazed by her attempted attack, “Perhaps, though, I should not be the one to say. Your ada, however, is the only one who knows the truth. How easy it is to keep a secret when you’re the only one who holds it.” He let go of her, slowly stepping away with a flourish of his hand, “No worry though, you should have every opportunity to ask whilst you languish in my dungeons.” He lifted the skirts of his robe as he climbed the steps back to his throne, “You may go.”

Feather was stunned as Thranduil redirected his attention to the glass of wine waiting for him upon the table beside the arm of his throne. He sipped from it and behaved as if she no longer stood in his presence. She struggled to fight the misgiving rising within.  _Her ada would never lie to her,_  she assured herself as she turned away, _but he had changed since the journey began._  

Had he truly been protecting her all these years, or had he simply been protecting his own conscience?


	11. Chapter 11

Feather clung to the side of Fili’s barrel, unable to fit herself into one of her own. She had nearly drowned when the floor had tilted and sent her and the company into the depths below. As she struggled to break the surface, a hand grabbed her and pulled her back to the light. Dwalin’s hold on her lingered before she broke it without a word. Fili offered to keep her close as concern creased his golden brows.

The water splashed her face as she spun the barrel, angling Fili clear of an arrow’s path. It was hard to keep herself attached to the slippery wood, but it allowed her more control than the dwarves bouncing along the waves in front of her. Fili’s attention had been torn when Kili had taken an arrow to his leg and Feather was glad for it. He could always sense when she was upset, and she didn’t quite know yet how to process her thoughts.

She glanced over at Dwalin as he caught a heavy iron ax, swinging it at an orc before it could do so first. She released the barrel and plunged under the water, swimming swiftly to the shore. She climbed up the grass, dodging a descending orc so that it plummeted into the river behind her. Her long legs carried her up the slope and she relieved a corpse of a rusted sword. It was not her weapon of choice, but it would have to do.

Feather’s wet boots slid along the grass as she swung her blade; first across an orc’s chest, then a throat, blood flowing with every parry. She kept with the pace of the company in the water, dodging her foe as she moved on instinct. Ahead, the river descended, and she would be lost if she did not rejoin her companions.

Legolas was near, and she met him, weapon held at ready as she approached the water’s edge.

“You would go with the dwarves?” He asked, the angle of his thin brow.

“I came with them, I’ll leave with them,” She peeked over her should as the barrels grew nearer, “Besides, you elves have a stark sense of hospitality.”

“Remember, you’re an elf, too,” He shrugged, though his tone made her wonder if he was aware of her conversation with Thranduil, “You’ll never be one of them. Any elf can make a home in Mirkwood.”

“I don’t believe you,” She insisted, tossing her sword aside before turning to dive into the water. Feather wasn’t sure if she had truly meant her last statement for Legolas or if she had been trying to convince herself against Thranduil’s suspicions.

Feather latched onto Fili’s barrel before it slipped over the drop and he held her forearm steady with his thick fingers. She looked into his sky-blue eyes and he grinned, his eyes lit with relief and adrenaline, “Glad you made it back.”

“Me too,” She gulped, pressing her lips closed against the rush of water.

She grew dizzy as they plateaued, and they were spun around by the waves until they finally tipped unceremoniously into the shallows. She held her head as she rose, her clothing sodden and heavy. She helped Fili off his knees as he climbed out of the barrel before following him to find his brother. They helped Kili limp over the shale and stone, resting him on the shore as they uncovered his weeping wound.

“Fuck,” Feather swore, an uncharacteristic slip. She wished she was as wise as the rest of her race. Surely if she was, she would be able to help. Alas, she didn’t know anything. Not even her own father.

“Feather,” Fili stared at her as she lowered herself onto her knees, leaning back on her heels, “Are you—”

“Stop asking me if I’m alright,” She snapped, regretting her temper almost immediately, “I’m…” She sighed between words, “Fine.”

Feather pushed back her heavy curls, thicker from the water; a frizzy mess puffing out from her head. She looked up and caught her ada’s eye once more, quickly looking away as she felt her cheeks redden. He couldn’t have, wouldn’t have. She kept repeating it. Arguing with herself. Trying to convince herself of something she already knew.

She was a horrible daughter to not trust her ada and Legolas was right; she was no dwarf. She would always be an orphaned elf.

* * *

Dwalin disliked the bargeman’s home. It was gloomy and damp. Worse, it was much too cramped. He was forced to face the iciness radiating from his own daughter, watching her from across the room as she avoided his gaze. It hurt more than any pain he had felt before, but it was even more agonizing to know he deserved it.  _What else did he expect after all he had said and done?_

But he had been trying. He had defended her and checked on her to make sure she was well. Yet he could not blame her for her evasiveness. A few words on her behalf could no atone for the hurt he had caused her.

He had been so afraid when they had taken her from her cell in Mirkwood and he realized how stupid he had been. He had wanted so badly to tear the door from his own and chase after her. To shield her from whatever the Elvenking had planned for her, but he had failed her once more.

He longed to apologize but he was too afraid that she would turn even that away. This was what he had dreaded; losing her, and yet he had pushed her so far away she was unreachable even as she sat across from him. 

He bit his lip and stood, pulling his fingers through the knots of his beard. He approached Thorin as he brooded in the corner, joining his oldest companion in his melancholy.

“She hates me,” Dwalin grumbled, “And rightfully so…I should’ve never tried to keep her from the Mountain.”

“No, you shouldn’t have,” Thorin agreed nonchalantly, “I always said she had a place waiting in Erebor. Elf or not. She is a dwarf at heart. You know it as well as I.”

“More than me,” Dwalin moped, leaning his chin in his hand as he watched Fili sit beside his daughter, handing her a mug of steaming tea. The two were as inseparable as ever.

“And my nephew, he knows it,” Thorin smiled, his blue eyes twinkling as he watched the two, “He loves Feather for what she is and isn’t.”

“What do ye—” Dwalin sat up and glanced back to his daughter and the golden Durin, watching her keenly. “They’ve always been friends.”

“Those two,” Thorin shook his head, “They’ve traveled a path all their own on this journey, but they’ve still a ways to go.”

“No…” Dwalin sputtered, overwhelmed with the thought.

“Yes,” Thorin chuckled, “They have my blessing. And I know Dis would happily give hers. She always said…well, she has an odd foresight, that one.”

“Well, I never really thought—” Dwalin tugged on his beard anxiously and once more peeked over at his daughter but met the cold gaze of Fili instead. The blonde dwarf stood, dissatisfied and began to approach the pair of grumpy old dwarves hiding in the corner, though he seemed not to be as concerned with Thorin.

“Eh, what have I done this time?” Dwalin mumbled as he watched the impending storm closing in on him.

* * *

Fili sat beside Feather as she took the tea from him with a toneless ‘thank you’. Since they had been imprisoned, she had changed. That usual spark which had enlivened her was flickering and she sat in  grim silence, mulling over troubles unsaid. She seemed sightless as she stared ahead blindly, ignorant to all but her own mind.

“What is it, Feather? There must be something wrong,” He whispered to her, offering her the most privacy they could garner amidst so many.

“Nothing,” She inhaled the steam rising from the tea, “You should be with your brother. He is unwell.”

“He is sleeping. At last. I’ll let him rest,” Fili insisted, “What happened…with the Elvenking?”

“Nothing, I told you already,” She rolled her eyes, disheartening him. Fili had never known her to be so somber. “All he did was talk. Thranduil is not my problem.”

Fili withheld a sigh, following Feather’s eyes as they rose for a moment before quickly retreating. Dwalin sat beside Thorin, the two distracted by their own hushed conversation. The old mule looked as stern as ever, grumbling in the corner with the equally flinty king.

 _How could Dwalin be so cruel to Feather?_  She was his own daughter. Besides, she had never given him reason to distrust her.  _Was he so set against her race that he would disown her?_ Fili looked back to Feather as she sipped from her tea, her lilac eyes pale and her skin sallow. Her hair had lost its rosiness along with her cheeks. She was a ghost sitting amongst the living.

Fili was tired of watching Feather suffer and even more so of Dwalin tormenting her. He touched the back of her hand and she turned to him a half-hearted smile in response. Her lips trembled and fell and she lowered her head over her mug. “I’m alright, Fili,” She assured weakly, “I promise. I just…need to think.”

Fili rose slowly, turning his sights to Dwalin who looked up at him as if expecting him. Fili sneered at him, though he felt himself a paltry adversary to the fearsome dwarf before him. But it was about time someone told Dwalin what he needed to hear. Someone needed to put him in his place. To tell him how despicable he was for mistreating his very own daughter.

By the time Fili reached Dwalin, he was boiling with anger and about to burst. If Feather wouldn’t say it, he would. And he would say it loud enough for the damned donkey to hear it!


	12. Chapter 12

Fili planted his feet before the pair of dwarves, both looking unusually anxious at his approach. Thorin glanced at Dwalin as the prince’s eyes burned into the latter so intensely the king felt invisible.

“Dwalin,” Fili greeted with a voice so furious he was not certain it was his own, “Can you stand up?”

“What is it, boy?” The dwarf replied with feigned nonchalance, concern colouring his tone, “What’s gotten you so worked up?”

“I’m not a boy! Now please, I’d like to say what I have in mind to your face,” Fili was growing further agitated by his adversary’s reluctance.

“Fili,” Thorin said in a low warning, “I don’t think you should do this here.”

“This has nothing to do with you,” Fili dismissed his uncle, keeping his glare focused on Dwalin, “Now, stand up, you old donkey, before I make you.”

Dwalin exchanged a look of bemusement with the king before slowly rising with a chuckle. He held Fili’s eyes with his own and squared his shoulders, staring down the younger dwarrow. The disregard being shown to the prince was only fueling his rage and he balled his fists at his sides.

“Well?” Dwalin shrugged as he waited for the onslaught.

“You’re a right ass, you know that?” It was a poor beginning, but Fili had not exactly thought through his words before hand. He had merely stormed over in his rage and now his thoughts were awhirlwind. “How dare you treat your own daughter as if she was lesser! All you’ve done this whole journey is bitch and moan and worse, you’ve taken it out on the only person who gives a shit about you!”

“Fili,” Thorin touched his nephew’s elbow only to be swatted away.

Dwalin had paled and his face had dropped as he stared wordlessly at his accoster. He almost had the grace to look guilty and it emboldened Fili further.

“You really are heartless, aren’t you?” Fili continued, but his next accusation was caught in his throat as Dwalin reached out to place his hand firmly on his shoulder.

“Fili,” The older dwarf’s voice was thin, “I agree with you, but I think I’d like to speak about this in the next room, if you will?”

“Go on, Fili,” Thorin’s voice had grown stern, “Before you go too far.”

Fili huffed as his nostrils flared. He looked around the room, the other members of the company doing a poor job of concealing their eavesdropping. The only one seemingly unfazed by the scene was Feather whose head hung, her eyes closed in whatever dark thoughts had filled her mind.

“Fine,” He nodded and motioned Dwalin to lead the way, “Let’s go then.”

Dwalin shared a brief look with Thorin who watched the pair leave, the former leading the way into the crowded kitchen. It was little better than arguing in front of an audience, but Fili cared little either way. It was Dwalin who was rightfully embarrassed. After so long of acting like a horse’s ass, he was being served the crow he deserved.

“Before you continue,” Dwalin spoke as Fili made to resume his rant, “I agree. I’ve been an awful ada to Feather.” The confession took the prince aback and he nearly gasped, “I’m only surprised she didn’t come to tell me herself. That one’s never been shy, especially when angry.”

“Um, alright?” It was Fili’s turn to be speechless as he watched the shame and remorse play across Dwalin’s face, “Yeah, you’ve been a right mule to her, you know?”

“I know it well,” Dwalin’s shoulders dropped and he brushed his hands over his bald head with a sonorous sigh, “I just…don’t know what to do about it. I feel like—” He leaned against the counter heavily, sniffing, “It’s too late to change.”

Fili frowned. This was not what he expected. Sure, he had wanted to put Dwalin in his place but he had been more swept up in Feather’s emotion and seeking vengeance for her. Seeing the grim dwarf fracture was disquieting and worse than being face with physical recompense. Fili almost wished the Fundin would punch him rather than dissemble.

“I-It’s not though,” Fili stuttered before the silence could permeate, “You can still apologize.”

“I’ve tried and I’m just miserable with words and I don’t know what to say,” Despite his claims of ineloquence, Dwalin’s words flooded without restraint, “Besides, I don’t think she’d hear me anyways. And why should she listen, I’ve done not but push her aside and treated her cruelly. I deserve her anger, but I fear I’ve gained her hate.”

“Dwalin,” Fili was suddenly playing counselor to the dwarf he had only just been berating. Yet, he knew that Feather didn’t need her ada to be punished, she just needed him, “You can. Trust me, it’s the best thing you could do.”

“I don’t know,” Dwalin scratched his beard with dread, “I was so afraid of losing her when she showed up back at The Shire and I was so enraptured in my fear that I kept pushing her way. That’s what scared me the most, was losing her, but now I think I’ve welcomed the very fate I cowered at. I’ve thrown it all away for my own selfish fears.”

“No, you’ve not,” Fili stepped up beside Dwalin, a hand on his arm, “You need to stop being afraid, dammit. All these years, you’ve looked after Feather and you were only trying to protect her, as you always have,” The old dwarf wiped away a single tear, lowering his head, “And she needs you more than ever now,” Fili inhaled, forcing himself to smile reassuringly, “She’s…Well, I don’t know what’s going on with her but you understand her better than any and I think right now she just needs her ada.”

“Thank you, Fili,” Dwalin lifted his head and gulped, “For being there for her when I wasn’t,” He turned and gripped Fili by his shoulders, looking into his eyes with admiration, “You’re a fine dwarf and the Durin blood is strong in you.” Fili was even more flummoxed at the uncharacteristic praise, “Thank you for watching over my daughter…You make an old dwarf proud.” He released the prince and ruffled his hair, regaining a semblance of composure, “Now, I’ve got to talk to my daughter.”

Dwalin clapped Fili on the back one last time before leaving him alone in the kitchen. The prince stood wordless as he watched the door swing in his stead, wondering at the peculiar exchange.  _What in Mahal had just happened?_

* * *

Feather barely noticed as Fili sat beside her. She cradled her head in her hands as she tried to sort through the discord of her mind. Her tea had grown cold and forgotten beside her but warmth radiated from the dwarf at her other shoulder. She was grateful that even in her gloom, that her old friend was with her.

She lifted her head to offer him a grateful smile, sorry for her isolation. But she was surprised to find another in Fili’s place and she sputtered in confusion. Dwalin stared back at her, his shoulder against hers, his grey eyes marred with apprehension. He offered a sheepish smile as she chewed her lip, her eyes roving anxiously.

“Feather,” He inhaled as she watched him search for words. She could always tell by the crease in his brow when he was thinking hard, “I have something to say, um, if you would listen?”

“Of course, ada,” Despite her doubts and past contention, Feather could see the desperation in her father. She could sense that he was reaching out and she loathed to push him further away. Never in her life had she felt so far from her ada, “I’ll listen.”

“I’m not very good at these things but it’s no excuse for waiting so long,” He picked at his finger nails as he spoke, “I should’ve done this weeks ago, albeit, I should’ve never acted such a fool to begin with.” He swallowed as he met her eyes, “I’m sorry, Feather, for hurting you. I’ve been a terrible ada to you along this journey. I am deeply sorry for that and I hope, even if it’s not today, that you can forgive me.”

Feather ruminated on his words as he watched her anxiously, holding his breath as tears trembled in her eyes. It was all she had ever wanted from him but her mind was still clouded with the foreboding implanted by Thranduil. _Why couldn’t she just forget it?_  He should not be apologizing to her, rather she should be the sorry one.

“What is it, Feather?” He wiped away a stray tear as if fell, “Have I wronged you so completely?”

“It is not you, ada, it is me,” She whimpered, looking away, “I’m such a horrid daughter, if you would call me that.” She sniffed and forced back her tears, scrubbing them away roughly with her cuff, “All you’ve done for me and…I would doubt you based on the Elvenking’s lies. I know you didn’t do it and yet, I am afraid.”

“Afraid of what, dear?” He lifted his arm from between them and wrapped it around Feather, “You can tell me.”

“Oh, he said such horrible things and for a moment, I believed him. For these past days, I’ve been reliving it and doubting you…” She shook her head as she tried not to look him in the face, “He said that you killed my mother and stole me away. That there is no other way a dwarf would ever come by an elvish babe, and me! I gave credence to his words and distrusted you. I am just as bad as those other elves, ada!”

“No, you’re not, Feather,” Dwalin declared as he took her chin between his fingers and made her look him in the eye, “You are my daughter and I love you. No matter what. Through good and bad, I’ll always be your ada and you’ll always be my little feather.”

Dwalin hugged his daughter to him and she buried her face in his shoulder. Feather wrapped her arm around his middle as she huddled against him. Despite her stature, she had shrunk to the same little girl he had once cradled in his arms.


	13. Chapter 13

Feather frowned as she stood on the wooden dock, watching the boat full of dwarves float away towards their home. She crossed her arms across her chest and sighed. Her and her ada may have reconciled but she couldn’t help but be irritated that he would force her to stay behind. Loath to start an argument with Dwalin, she had pled her case as calmly as she could and reluctantly coalesced when he made his wishes clear.

It didn’t keep her from kicking herself. She had never dreamed of truly seeing the Mountain but having been so close, she felt as if she had been denied some sacred rite. She was an elf but the dwarves were her people. They had given her a life she should never have had and accepted her despite the grudges they held against her blood. Her first step in Erebor would be the first moment she felt truly home.

“Feather,” She was finally shaken from her thoughts as she felt fingers trail down her arm. Slowly she tore her eyes away from the departing ship and turned to Fili as he stood with his brother against his shoulder. His blue eyes smiled though his lips did not as he awaited her response.

“They should’ve let me go with them,” She grumbled, uncrossing her arms, “I’m the only one taller than a barrel and I’m much faster…and quieter even than that hobbit.”

“They can manage,” Fili said begrudgingly, “Even if we all should be on that barge.”

“Hmm,” Feather looked over Kili with concern, his pale faced covered in a sheen of sweat, “Maybe not all of us.”

“Don’t start,” Kili groaned, leaning heavier against his brother, “I’m fine. I’ll get over it. Oin will treat my infection and I’ll be well and ready to go.”

Feather clasped her lips together, resisting the retort which came to mind. There was something about the glassy shine in his eyes which troubled her. This intuition arose in her at times. She felt as if she could see beyond what the dwarves could, but the knowledge to decipher her instinct was missing.

_Oh well, she’d rather be a good dwarf than a good elf._

Still she wondered at what she had missed out on. If her mother had lived and she had been raised with her own, would she be who she was. Or would she be another elf looking down her nose at the very race which had kept her from death. It was interesting to consider who she could have been but jarring nonetheless.

“Come on, let’s go,” She steered herself up the dock, waiting for the Durins to fall into step behind her, “Infection it may be, but you still need to rest. Besides, Oin will want to look at you again.”

“At times, I suspect his sight isn’t much better than his hearing,” Kili moaned as she heard Fili half-dragging him along the planks.

“And your sense isn’t half as sharp as your wit,” Feather replied, “You dwarves. Always so stubborn.”

* * *

It had all happened so suddenly. Feather had been watching Kili writhe in pain when her thoughts were interrupted by a sense of foreboding. The hairs on her arms and neck stood on end and she reached for the straight sword given her by the Master. She glanced out the window as a scarred grey scowl appeared before her and she barely blocked the creature’s blow.

Crashes came from behind her as she fended off her enemy, more and more orcs arriving with each she cut down. A head of silver hair flashed before her and one of red. They were as quick as her, maybe quicker, and the dwarves fended off the attack as they harried around Kili and the bargeman’s children. When the melee calmed, she watched the pale blonde hair disappear back into the night as the elf they called Tauriel bent over the wounded dwarf.

Feather caught her breath as she kept watch out the window, taking in the scene as if she was in another world. She was happy she had been here to fight off the assault but it worried her to think the orcs so near. She marveled at Tauriel as she began her elvish recital, the words droning in a half-song. It all seemed to be happening slowly and yet all at once.

As the elf’s chant died in the air, Feather crossed to the table and knelt beside Fili who held onto his brother with concern. Kili was nearly unconscious but had ceased his pained squirming. She reached over to the blonde prince and took his hand, his blue eyes flicking to her lilac ones. He smiled and squeezed her hand.

“He’s okay,” She assured him gently, “Fili, he’s okay.”

“I know, I know, I just–” He exhaled shakily as he stood and Feather did the same, “I was so afraid.”

“So was I,” She admitted. She missed when they were children and they used to hold hands. She wondered when they had stopped and why now, it felt so…different. She released him as she heard another enter and Legolas appeared beside his red-headed companion.

She was relieved to see the elvish prince but only so much as she recalled how callous he had been to her. During the battle, she had been certain Thranduil had arrived to take them back to Mirkwood. That was not to say his son was not on a similar mission.

“Why are you here?” She crossed to him, longing for the sword she had set aside.

“Besides healing your dying friend?” He glanced over her shoulder wryly, “And fighting off a pack of orcs?”

“Well?” Feather squared her shoulders, staring him down.

“We’re not here to trouble you more than we need to,” He said evenly, “But seeing as we helped you, I would think it unseemly to send us on our way so soon.”

“Did I say I would do so?”

“I sensed it was in your mind,” He gave a half smirk, “But I should not give you reason to change your mind if it was not.”

Tauriel had detached herself, now speaking with the dazed Kili upon the table. Legolas’ eyes flicked towards her and his grin fell. Feather chewed her lips as she watched him. It seemed every elf was much more observant than her.

“What are you looking at?” Legolas glanced back to her with a raised brow.

“I…” She looked away guiltily, “I’ve never met other elves before a few months ago. As much as I look to be one, I know nothing of them.” She rubbed her neck abashedly, “I must seem a right dunce to you, but…could I ask you something?”

“Sure,” Legolas shrugged as if put off by her sudden change in demeanour, “Ask away.”

“What is Feather in elvish?”

“Quesse,” He pronounced the word with a graceful lilt, “Anything else?”

“Well,” She scratched her neck, forcing her hand to her side as she thought, “There’s lots I’ve wondered but…um, I wouldn’t want to bore you.”

“It’s fine,” He seemed a lot friendlier than he had when they first met, “I don’t mind. I’ve never met an elf who didn’t know elvish though.”

* * *

Fili watched Feather as she crossed the room. She looked ready to pummel the elvish prince but to his disappointment, she only talked. For a while. As she continued to chatter with Legolas, Fili found himself increasingly want to walk over and smack him instead. But he held his sudden burst of temper which surprised him.

Fili was never quick to anger and though he had precedence to hold a grudge against the elvish prince, he was much more bitter than he would expect. The silver-headed elf looked at Feather as if she was the only one in the room though only moments before he had given the same consideration to the other female there. The very one who now sat beside his brother and shared sickly sweet smiles with him.

 _Ugh!_  Suddenly Fili felt very alone. He looked to Bofur and Oin, who watched over the frightened children, all while Bofur told his oldest joke. It was one he had heard too many times and he was not in the mood to join the pair and hear it again. Rather, he found a chair and sat with his arms folded, glaring at the elvish duo.

 _Why was he so concerned?_  Feather was allowed to have other friends.  _Friends?_  They had only just met and the elf had been a right ass up to this very moment. But maybe she was merely curious of her own kind. But the dwarves were her kind. She had lived and grown with them. _With him._

Fili growled, reminding himself of his uncle, and he pulled his arms apart. The Durin’s blood was more a curse than a blessing. In those times when he found himself unjustly offended or incensed, he could blame his lineage. It was not truly him.

One night. That’s all it was. Barely that. A few hours maybe. There was no way Feather could fall in love so quickly. Love took time. Fili knew it well. Why, look at him. It had taken him until that very moment for the epiphany to strike him; sitting in the corner of the room surrounded by merry voices.

Fili sat up very suddenly and it was as if he was seeing Feather for the first time. He had known her since the day he was born but before him was a stranger. Her glowing lilac eyes, her coiled strawberry hair, perfectly rounded face, and cherub nose. He was suddenly very much entranced. And even more frightened.


	14. Chapter 14

Dis had warned Feather that the journey would be hard. She had warned her of Dwalin’s temper though his own daughter knew it well enough. She had expected the distance which had formed between them, but just as it had mended, she had found herself at odds with another. Someone she had never expected to treat her coldly.

Ever since they had left Laketown, Feather had felt a sense of exile. She had not even a moment to marvel at Erebor upon their arrival. The king was succumbing to his madness, consumed with his obsession and a pall had taken the whole company. But worse than Thorin’s sickness, worse than her father’s previous disownment, was the estrangement of her best friend.

She had wondered that night in Laketown at Fili’s prying green eyes. How his gaze followed Legolas with an anger she had never seen in him. And when the elves had parted from him, he d given her curt answers and saved most of his words for his brother.  _What had she done this time? How was it that they had disassembled so quickly?_

Feather dragged a sharp rock across the ground, scratching a line into the stone. She was hiding. From the king and his demands for his arkenstone; from her friend and his sudden distaste. Perhaps an elf _didn’t_  belong in Erebor. The mountain itself seemed inhospitable to her race; souring its inhabitants against her.

She stopped scribbling on the stone as she heard footsteps near. She pulled her legs into the alcove and peeked around the corner cautiously. She would have know the footfalls without looking. The heavy clomp of hide on stone. She was almost tempted to melt into the darkness but she needed her father.

“There ya are,” He said as he slid to a stop before her, barely catching sight of her before he could react, “I’ve been looking for ye.”

“I don’t feel like searching through hills of coins today,” She grumbled, “And damn Thorin. If he should wish for me to join, he can drag me there himself.”

“Aye, I can’t disagree,” He knelt, gripping his knees with a suppressed groan, “Let the king rant and rave a little longer. Your despair is greater to me than his anger.”

Slowly, he lowered himself onto his bottom, sitting so that he faced her, his hand resting on her knee gently. She gave a weak smile and placed her hand atop his. Her slender fingers were longer than his but his thick paw still made her feel a child. She wished she was as strong as him.

“So tell me, dear,” He kept his voice low, his grey eyes burning through the dim corridor, “What troubles my little feather? What have I done this day?”

“It’s not you, ada,” She sighed, wrapping her fingers around two of his, “It’s what I’ve done, though I don’t even know what it is.” She hung her head, her thick curls falling around her cheeks, “Fili…he doesn’t like me anymore.”

“What?” Dwalin was genuinely befuddled, “Why, the two of you’ve been inseparable your whole lives. How could he hate you so easily?”

“It’s this damned mountain,” She shook her head, “It’s no place for an elf. No place for me. You were right, ada. I don’t belong here.”

“Never. I never said you didn’t belong here,” He seized her hand, forcing her to look at him, “You belong with us. With me. And whatever’s gotten into that son of Durin can’t be more than his own stupidity.”

“Maybe,” She leaned against the wall, staring at her father glumly, “But what is left for any of us here? Thorin will be dead before we find that stone and we’ll spend eternity searching for his greed.”

“Thorin will find himself. He is more stubborn than the sickness,” Dwalin sounded troubled despite his conviction, “Don’t let your frustration taint your words. I know the lad well. Fili loves you. You’re a better friend to him than his own brother. It cannot be you that has changed him. His uncle is not himself and an heir has a lot resting on his shoulders.”

“And if the dwarves return to this mountain, will I still be welcome?” She whispered, “Or should I be cast out to join those who they think I belong with? Who would as soon send me away?”

“None should ever exile you from this place,” Dwalin declared, “They won’t get much further than the edge of my axe should they try…and that includes Fili.”

“I’d rather be gone from this cursed mountain than to live so close to the scorn of my oldest friend,” Feather’s eyes brimmed with tears and she sniffed, “You should’ve left me in that cave.”

“Shh, don’t say that,” He let go of her hand and brought himself closer, taking her shoulders and leaning her against him so that he could hug her. She smelled of lavender though none grew in the mountain and she radiated a warmth to rival that of the forge, “You saved me that day as much as I saved you. Don’t let that golden fool take your smile, dear.”

* * *

Dwalin had felt empty when he had been the reason for Feather’s misery, but now he was livid. To think that Fili should the cause of his daughter’s despair made him incorrigible. He held her until her tears were spent and coddled her into returning with him to the king’s mission. She descended to the piles of coins and hid her splotched face in her work.

Dwalin searched the cavernous hall for the singular blonde head. Fili was with his brother as usual, the two of them stirring around in a hill of gold. With another glance to Feather, distracted by her sadness, he set off to the other end of the room. 

Days like these were not to be spent alone.

He kicked through the coins violently as he neared the Durin brothers, passing Kili who stood suddenly with a surprised stutter. Dwalin had never been skilled at concealing his displeasure. He tugged on the back of Fili’s collar, forcing him to stand and look up at him. He grasped the scruff of his tunic and pulled him into the closest nook without a word.

The prince stared back at him in confusion and fear, writhing against the older dwarf’s grasp. Dwalin released him with snarl and had to restrain from shoving him into the wall.  _How could the lad act so clueless when he was being so awful?_

“What is you problem?” He demanded, keeping his voice as quiet as his anger would allow.

“What? What did I do?” Fili glanced helplessly to the hall where Kili peeked around the corner, unable to withhold his curiosity.

“You,” Dwalin pointed at the younger Durin, “Begone before I knock ye heads together.” He turned back to Fili as he heard Kili scramble through the coins, “Don’t be obtuse with me, boy.”

“I truly don’t know why you’re about to strangle me,” Fili pleaded, pressing against the wall fearfully.

“You wouldn’t, would ye?” Dwalin’s fists were so tight his nails stabbed him, “But ye would if ye’d talk to my daughter. What game are ye playing with my feather?”

“Huh?” Fili’s eyes widened, “What? None, I…I’ve not done anything to her.”

“Then why is she so convinced ye hate her, hmm? Ever since ye got here, you’ve been ignoring her. I may be a dolt, but even I noticed.”

“I wasn’t, I was…giving her space,” Fili’s voice was fraught, “I–I–”

“It’s about that damned elf,” Dwalin interjected, “That little Mirkwood bastard. You think my Feather’d be fool enough to go for that whimsy little creature?”

“It’s none of my business who Feather likes,” Fili pushed himself from against the wall, suddenly riled at the mention of Legolas, “I can’t control her heart.”

“Nah, but you want it,” Dwalin said, “I know ye do. Ye love my feather and I can’t blame ye. Better ye admit to yourself before it’s too late.”

“She’s my best friend, of course I love her,” Fili retorted, “But we’re just friends.”

“No, yer a coward is what ye are,” Dwalin scoffed, “Too afraid to be more.”

“Shouldn’t you be chasing me away?” Fili challenged.

“Ye think I want anyone else with her?” Dwalin’s nostrils flared and his jaw tensed.

“But…what if she doesn’t love me?” Fili’s voice was small, his defiance quickly draining from him

“Yer a bigger idiot than me, boy, if you don’t think she does,” Dwalin clapped his hand on Fili’s shoulder, “But if you don’t fix this and get over your petty ego, I’m gonna toss ye from the top of this mountain…” He removed his hand, turning to return to the hall before pausing to face Fili once more, “And if ye break her heart, I’ll break every bone it that daft body of yers. Prince or no.”

With that, Dwalin tramped off through the coins, leaving Fili to stare after him in shock and fear. Fear of the brutish dwarf walking away from him. Fear of the task placed ahead of him; of his own feelings; of Feather; of rejection.

If Dwalin was wrong, Fili could lose everything, for what would his life be without his best friend?


	15. Chapter 15

Feather peered down the rocky incline. Her elvish eyes caught the battle raging in the distance. An argument, not feet from her, sounded distant. The dwarves had been bickering since they had reached the peak of the cliff.

She looked up at the ancient temple. It’s crumbling windows were like weeping eyes staring ominously back at her. Goose pimples ran the length of her limbs and the nape of her neck tingled. There was something amiss but she could not place it. Her elvish senses were dulled by her dwarvish nature.

The warmth on her elbow chased away the chill crawling up her spine. She turned to her ada who was watching her with wary eyes. He always knew when she worried. It was not of her character to be so tense. Anxious, even.

“We shouldn’t go in there,” She waved her hand at the temple, “We can’t.”

“We must,” Thorin interjected, “There is a battle below and we cannot hide here in our cowardice.”

“This is not cowardice,” She snapped. Never had she spoken so sharply to her king. As of late, she was noticing that many of his kin shared his obstinacy. “Evil awaits us within.”

“Nonsense…this is the naivety of those new to battle,” He scoffed, “Dwalin, perhaps you were right about her.”

“I thought the sickness had left your head,” Dwalin growled,“She might be right. She has a sense unknown to dwarves.” Feather was frowning at the temple once more,  “There must be another way…”

“A sense unhoned for a lifetime with us,” Thorin retorted, “As skilled as she is with that axe, I cannot risk the Mountain on her unfounded misgivings.”

“We’ll go,” Kili spoke up, “The two of us. We’ll scout it out and report back.”

“Make sure all is clear,” Fili agreed. Her eyes darted to him frantically.

“No!” Feather nearly knocked the brothers off their feet as she turned on them, “You cannot.”  Even if Fili still wasn’t speaking to her much, she did not want him to march into the abyss.

“We should make a decision,” Bilbo muttered as he walked the edge of the cracked stoneway, “We haven’t much time.”

Feather’s pointed ears pricked and she heard the flapping which preceded an approaching black cloud. Dwalin drew his ax and Thorin bared his sword, weapons readied for the ambush. Thorin shoved his heirs toward the stairway, “You and Kili go.”

“Me, too,” Feather insisted, “Don’t go alone.”

“Fine,” Thorin waved her away with exasperation, “Go!”

“Feather,” Dwalin caught his daughter’s arm, his grey eyes sparkling, “Be careful.”

“I will, ada,” She breathed as he released her.

“Fili,” He gestured the elder Durin over and whispered in his ear before shooing him away. “Now go on, the lot of you.”

He turned to catch the first bat with his ax, slicing through its leather-like skin. Feather followed the Durin’s up the crooked steps, her stomach roiling the closer they got to the temple. With her long legs, she whisked past the princes and led them within, hushing them as they entered.

The stone corridors were deathly silent. The walls were cracked and barely held together with overgrown vines. The sounds of the conflict outside were barely heard, adding to the eerie lull. Feather kept her ax at the ready, her breath coming slowly.

Her blood turned icy as she heard a distant footsteps. Looking back at her companions, she realized they hadn’t caught it. She had been right. There was evil awaiting them here. She turned on them and shoved them so hard they nearly stumbled. In the space between them, a corridor ran perpendicular, separating them.

A grey-skinned creature appeared before her, Fili and Kili at it’s back. She heard another approaching from her rear and sliced through the first. The ice within her had turned to fire as she turned to meet the next foe. As she parried the orc’s blows and heard his allies nearing, she looked over her shoulder at the princes.

“Don’t,” She commanded as they made to join the fray, “Go back to your uncle.”

“No,” Kili protested.

“You must. Warn him and the others,” Her ax severed the neck of the orc and she let it fall at her feet. Footsteps padded like a drumbeat, echoing closer and closer, “Go! Before it’s too late.”

“Feather,” Fili called as the impending footfalls drew in, “You can’t–”

“Go!” She yelled as another orc came between them and she met its blade with her, “Do not make this for not.”

“She’s right,” Kili tugged on his brother, “We have to warn them.”

“No, no,” Fili struggled against his brother, “We can’t leave her.” Another orc arrived and Feather was batting them off swiftly, keeping them at the end of her blade.

“You must,” She hissed, kicking the feet out from under the second, “Please!”

“I–” Fili looked back at the corridor; it wouldn’t be clear for much longer, “I love you, Feather.”

“I know,” She cracked the skull of an orc with the butt of her ax, “I love you, too.” She spun away from the other, it’s blade drawing blood as it grazed her cheek, “Now go. Live!”

Feather listened as the brothers retreated, reluctance and urgency weighing down their feet. She resisted the tears which blurred her vision and slew the orc before her. Her enemy was replaced with six more in an instant and she fought the wall around her. Her heart raced as she gripped her ax and hollered; every ounce of fear and rage within it.

“For Erebor!” She cried out as a sword bounced off her ax.

Another aimed for her waist and she caught it with her bare hand, her bloodied palm ripping the blade from the orc’s. She struck out endlessly as the blades never ceased around her, for every enemy she killed another appeared. She was not sad for her end, but happy knowing what she would die for.

* * *

Dwalin panted, lowering his ax as he looked over the slaughter around him. The enemy had been many but simple enough to slay. Even the hobbit had held his own. A shout crew his attention, nipping away his battle lust as the voice filled him dread.

Another followed, this one the words he could discern. “For Erebor!”

He heard the frantic retreat of footsteps, the Durin brothers nearly crashing down the stairway. Fili’s face was flushed and tears streaked his cheeks. Kili was visibly shaken and Dwalin steadied himself with his ax.

“Where’s Feather?” He asked, knowing the answer.

“Sh-she wouldn’t go,” Fili sputtered, “We tried to–”

“There were too many,” Kili said.

“Too many what?” Dwalin demanded.

“Orcs, they’re in the temple,” Fili sniffed, catching his breath, “She was right.” He squared his shoulders and marched over to his uncle, “You hear that, Feather was right and now–!”

“Thorin Oakenshield,” The deep voice pierced their grief. The party turned to stare upon Azog as he spoke. All eyes searched for their elvish companion but she was nowhere to be seen and the cacophony of battle had died.

“My daughter…” Dwalin whispered, hanging his head as he no longer heard the orc’s words. His tears were mingled with fury and he looked over at his king.

“You go your way, Thorin,” He snarled, passing his oldest friend, “I’m going to avenge my Feather.”

He raced up the stairway, eager to meet his death. There was no life to be had without his child, but she would not have died in vain.

* * *

Fili had grabbed his brother, dragging him back towards the temple after the infuriated Fundin. Thorin was reluctant but followed soon after. That old grudge would not die so easily.

 _How could he have left Feather?_  Even if she had told him to go and he would have died, how could he? He loved her. Knowing she was gone, what did he have left for him? The Mountain would be nothing but a shell without her. Without his lifelong friend.  _His One._

He hadn’t even told her. Not until that moment. He had shied away from her for so long.  _How could he have been so cold?_  Perhaps he was like Thorin. Perhaps he too had been touched by that sickness lurking in the mountain. He must have for how blind he had been.

He set aside his grief for the anger brewing inside. He was angry at the orcs for all they had done to his people. For stealing their home. For killing his best friend. And at Feather for sacrificing herself so foolishly. _Why did she have to be Dwalin’s daughter?_  For surely if she was not, she’d not be so boneheaded.

Dwalin dodged out suddenly and Fili pushed his brother out of the way of a lithe figure. Auburn hair spun through the air as the elf appeared before them. The same which had guarded their cells in Mirkwood. The very one who had saved his brother.

“Tauriel,” His brother breathed in delighted surprise. Fili felt the stab in his chest at the sight of a love not his own.

“There are orcs here,” She exclaimed as if one was not bleeding at her feet.

“We know,” Fili grumbled.

“Azog,” Thorin sneered at the elf as he appeared behind them, “I shall slay him before this day is through. Even if it means my own life.”

“There are more coming,” She replied, “Many more. You should worry about them and not Azog.”

“I worry over no other,” Thorin headed for the doorway, brushing off the elf, “Let this be our time of reckoning.”

Fili watched Dwalin follow his uncle but was curtailed from doing the same. Another orc leaped before them from the doorway above. Tauriel barely dodged it and Kili knocked away its blade before it could strike his brother. More foe followed and Fili fell in with his companions.

Every parry was a lash for Feather. Every drop of blood was spilled on her honour. Her memory. He could see her smile and it drove him onward. He heard her last cries, her selfless act, her thoughtless valour. She was more a dwarf than any of them.

Fili fell another orc and swore aloud. Out of mourning. Of anger. Of helplessness. He should have listened to Dwalin. He should have told her before.  _Why had he waited until the end?_  He could have faced it beside her. They could’ve enjoyed their last days in love. If he wasn’t such a coward.

When he was born, Feather had been there. He had never expected to die without her. How was he to do this alone?


	16. Chapter 16

Dwalin sat on the ice beside his king. Thorin’s shoulder was slashed, his hand bloodied, and his foot weeping across the ice. He was alive but barely. His nephews sat at his other side, Kili pressed a cloth to his larger wounds. Bilbo had flitted off to fetch their medic. Dwalin only prayed that Oin could heal the king.  _But what did it matter?_  His daughter was gone.

He was numb, the cold of the ice unheeded through the wool of his pants. His thick fingers trembled as he rested his arms on his bent knees. His breath shuddered, a cloud of fog hazing his vision as he stared at the dull sky. The sun stared back like a milky circle of opal, slowly descending over the grey horizon. The tears were frozen inside of him, waiting to fall, but he wouldn’t let them. If he cried, it meant it was all real.

“Dwalin,” He felt something clutch his ankle through the thick hide of his boot, “Cousin…”

The king’s hand was grabbing at his leg, shaking him from his mourning. “I’m…” Thorin struggled for words. Dwalin’s eyes strayed to the bloodied sword only feet away. Blood had dried across the steel, disposed in the king’s last parries. Azog’s mottled corpse was strewn across the ice behind them. He wanted to rise and hack the orc’s body to pieces, every slash in the name of–he couldn’t even think her name.

“…Sorry.” The king’s rasped apology brought him back once more. Dwalin reached up and touched the feather braided into what was left of his hair. The black had faded to grey but its plume remained thicker than any shank still remaining to him. He remembered when he had first looked upon his daughter. He had been more frightened than the abandoned babe in his arms. His fear had been well found for he had failed her.

“No,” Dwalin snorted, inhaling sharply as he brought a grimy hand to his mouth. “I’m sorry.” His cheeks twitched, his lips trembling as his grief threatened to overflow. He sniffed again, willing his sadness to the deepest pit of his stomach. “I hope you cherish the mountain, Thorin…for I won’t be here to do the same.”

“What?” Thorin’s finger’s picked weakly at Dwalin’s boot. The steely medic appeared on the rocky steps leading down from the temple. “Where…?”

“Away,” Dwalin shook his head and closed his eyes, “There’s nothing left for me here.”

A silence overcame the group. A warmth radiated from Dwalin’s shoulder and footsteps slid over the ice next to him. The air was suffocating; the smell of blood and dirt pungent around them. Dwalin grunted and forced his eyes open, looking down at his king, “You better live, you son of a bitch,” He threatened, “You better…”

Oin was closer now, the hobbit at his heels. The medic knelt at the king’s other side, shouldering Kili away as he peeked under the reddened cloth. He sighed but not hopelessly. It would be much work but not impossible. An arm pressed against his and Dwalin looked over. Fili sat beside him, eyes reddened and puffy. The dwarfling had not hidden his despair. The blood splattered across his cheeks was smeared by the dry trails of tears.

Dwalin reached up to squeeze his shoulder. His hand was still shaking. His heart felt as if would collapse in on itself. He rescinded his arm and touched the feather again. Slowly he unbounded the braid which held it. That had been his paternal braid; his daughter’s braid. He had let her wind it herself when she was but an elfling and she had redone it every year since. He twirled the feather in his fingers as it came loose and held it silently out to Fili.

“You didn’t tell her,” He grumbled.

“I…did,” Fili took the feather, staring at its faded plumes, “But it was too late.”

“You foolish boy,” His voice cracked. Dwalin stopped and swallowed. He couldn’t cry; wouldn’t. “My girl, she deserved all the love in this world…Oh,” He grasped his chest, his eyes burning but still he would not let the tears free. “All I ever brought her was grief and disappointment.”

“No, no,” Fili sputtered, “You gave her everything you had, Dwalin, you–”

His voice died as the elder dwarf’s slate eyes met his. They were stone; lifeless. Before he had been ever stalwart, but his eyes had burned with his unsaid emotions; anger, irritation, frustration. Now, he just looked lost. His eyes were glazing over to match the steel of his ax. It was a frightening sight. He had died in that temple alongside his daughter.  _Why hadn’t he gone with her?_

“Well,” Dwalin inhaled, raising his chin as he pushed himself to his feet. His old bones creaked as he rose and he bent to take his ax from the ice. He looked down at his king, the grey medic working over him diligently. “My king.” He bowed his head dismissively.

“Where are you going?” Thorin asked through gritted teeth.

“To find my daughter’s body,” He declared. _Did they know his voice threatened to shatter like the ice beneath them?_  “She deserves a proper burial.”

“Aye, in the mountain with the rest of Erebor’s heroes,” Fili stood, his mail clinking against his sheathed sword. “I will help you find her.”

“No, boy, this is my task,” Dwalin declared.

“You won’t find her on your own,” Fili insisted, “I…know where she fell.”

“Fine,” Dwalin growled, “Let’s be off before…” He did not finish his thought.  _Before he had not the strength to find his daughter’s corpse._

* * *

Fili climbed the crooked steps. They were not the same he had first taken into the temple but he would have to unwind the maze from there. A stone dais lined the back entrance of the looming structure, setting a fitting pall over their approach. Dwalin had grown silent. His nose twitched here and there as he sniffed back his anguish, his beard doing little to hide the trembling of his lips. Fili may have lost his best friend, but the dwarf beside him had lost his daughter.

At the leaning door frame which led within, Dwalin paused and searched around the debris littered across the stone dais. He picked up a thick branch and cut away a square of his own cloak, kneeling to fashion a torch. The sun was setting quickly and the temple would be even darker than before. Fili suspected he was merely trying to delay the inevitable.

Wordlessly, Dwalin waved him in ahead of him as he lit the end of the makeshift torch. Fili did his best to head east, knowing it was in those passages he had lost himself the first time. A corner of the wall had collapsed into a pile of bricks; he recognized it from his earlier sojourn. The stone grew more and more familiar and soon he spotted the limp forms across the floor, dark blood streaked the walls around them.

There were at least a dozen dead orcs before them. Most were missing one limb or another, another their head, but all had been cut down brutally. Fili had stopped breathing, his head throbbing as he approached the scene. He helped Dwalin push aside the corpses, making a path through the carnage. Feather’s battle ax was buried in the back of the last orc, it’s handle snapped from the force of its fall.

Dwalin tore the ax away from the orc’s body with a squelch. He wiped its black blood away from the blade on its own raggedy tunic. He shook his head as he sheathed his own ax across his back, keeping his daughter’s ruined weapon in hand. He put his torch towards the floor, droplets of blood growing in size as they led away from the fray. Fili looked ahead to the darkened doorway ahead; she had to be there for she was not among the pile of orcs.

Dwalin continued down the corridor, making sure not to step on the trail of blood. Fili heard a hum, only realizing as he caught up with the other dwarf that it was a khuzdul prayer. Dwalin was reciting an ancient funeral dirge. The torch flickered as they entered the next chamber; its roof had fallen away into the crevice beyond. Here, the dying sunlight glowed greyly across the stone.

An orc was dead across it’s stomach, a pool of congealing black oozing across the stone below it. Dwalin stopped in his tracks. His face twisted in confusion. Fili was the first to notice the familiar booted foot stick out from beneath the slain creature. Feather’s sole was soaked in blood as she lay buried beneath her attacker. Fili rushed over and began tugging on the beast.

“Come on,” He grunted at Dwalin, “Help me.”

Dwalin tilted his head as the realization struck him. He leaned the torch against the wall, its flame dwindling lower and lower. He came up next to Fili and they helped shove the orc off of Feather. A knife was hilt deep in the beast’s stomach, more blood spilling as it rolled onto its back, revealing the slender figure below.

Dwalin fell to his knees beside his daughter, touching her cheek as he continued to chant in khuzdul. He bent over her, his forehead on her chest as his words turned to nonsensical sobs. The dwarf was sapped of strength and his body crumpled to the floor next to the elf, his face buried in her shoulder as he wept.

“F-feather,” Fili made out her name as Dwalin cried, his voice muffled against her mail, “My little feather.” Dwalin looked like a child himself huddled against her.

Fili walked around her, looking down at her. His mouth fell open as he stared at her pale face. Her rosy blond hair was streaked with scarlet, a gash along her hairline crusted over. Her palm was slashed and her upper arm, another gash across her hip. She was almost heavenly in her repose, even covered in blood.

Her blond lashes looked to flutter as she lay there. Fili bent closer as her eyelids moved again. Surely the work of his hopeful imagination. Suddenly, a flash of violet came as her eyes opened and searched around weakly. He was convinced he was dreaming. He knelt beside her and touched her chest, the subtle rise and fall of her breathing stunning him.

“Dwalin,” His whispered, “Dwalin!” His voice was a pitch higher than usual.

“Ada,” Feather stammered, the arm which her father leaned on bending slowly to hug him. “What is—” She breathed sharply, “wrong?”

“Wha–” Dwalin pulled away, looking down at his daughter. He took her hand between both of his and kissed it in disbelief, “Feather?”

“You f-found my ax,” She said as she spotted the blade at his other side.

“Boy, please,” Dwalin freed one hand to reach over and grab Fili by his collar, “Go fetch Oin, or the wizard. Whoever you can find. Please!”

Dwalin didn’t need to beg. Fili was on his feet in a moment. His heart was racing as he didn’t tear his eyes from Feather until he reached the corridor.  _Was she truly alive? Would he be quick enough to save her?_ He clamoured between the bodies of orcs and along the dusty stone floor until dim sunlight beckoned him outside. A familiar grey figure ambled across the ice towards his uncle who was sitting up with the aid of his nephew and healer.

“Wizard,” Fili called, “Gandalf!!” The grey conjurer turned back, looking towards the temple, “Please, help! We need help!”


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: I just wanted to say a quick thank you before the end to everyone who has followed this series. It’s the first series I wrote that was Dwalin-centric and it also began during a really rough time for me. I was in a placement with an advisor who hated me and tried to derail my career and pretty much destroyed my self-confidence. It has taken two years to finish but it helped me through a lot and I can only hope that it has done the same for others. So without further ado, thank you and enjoy <3

Fili was impatient as he watched Gandalf ascend the crumbling steps. The wizard’s calm demeanour was frustrating as the dwarf thought of his friend dying on the temple floor. The wizard’s staff clicked up beside his footsteps but his face was not so steady as his gait. He touched the prince’s shoulder as he greeted him. “I am here, Fili.”

It was comforting. The wise magicker always had a way of quelling his fear. Yet Fili was shaking and he couldn’t help tugging on the grey wizard’s robe, ushering him to the door of the temple. “Please, you must come quick. It’s…It’s Feather,” He fought to keep his voice from cracking, “She needs your help. We don’t know what to do.”

“Yes, yes, young prince,” Gandalf’s blue eyes were tidal waves and yet his body showed no sign of the panic which had overtaken his accoster. He followed Fili through the door, his staff echoing ahead of them, the noise bouncing from the walls. The dwarf feared he was lost but was reassured as he saw the corpses of orcs guiding his way.

As they approached the room, they could hear Dwalin muttering. There was no response but Feather had barely been able to speak when he had gone.  _What if he was too late? What if he hadn’t said goodbye again?_ He broke into a jog as they neared and slid through the door, wanting to fall to his knees beside Feather. Her hand was twined with her father’s and despite her condition and  paled complexion, she was smiling. Dwalin was singing Fili realized.

“Ahh,” The wizard entered with an appraising sigh. He toed the orc which had been lifted from atop Feather, the chamber a smatter of blood. “She is strong,” He knelt beside the elf, lowering himself with his staff. “Elves are naturally resilient, Prince Fili. You needn’t lose hope yet.”

“Mister Gandalf,” Feather greeted in a hoarse whisper. Dwalin had stopped singing but still clung to his daughter. “You look tired.”

“Do not worry for me,” He nearly chuckled at the broken elf’s concern. It was just like her to be more concerned with him than the blood cake across her body. Fili prayed it wasn’t all hers. “My dear, I ask your permission to tend to you.”

“You…may,” She said with difficulty, “If you can.”

She closed her eyes as the last of strength left her. Dwalin gulped, holding her hand tighter. He couldn’t take his gaze from her. He feared if he looked away she would leave him again. Gandalf set a hand on her forehead and his other on her chest. The room went silent as he lowered his head, as if listening to an unheard voice. The brim of his hat trembled as he nodded here and there. A sigh rose from Feather’s lips and she twitched, her eyes opening wide.

Gandalf removed his hands and took his staff. He gestured to Fili to help him back to his feet. As he stood he cleared his throat. “That is all I can do for her,”

“That’s all you can do?” Dwalin hissed, “What does that mean, wizard?”

“Her bleeding is slowed and she will sustain for the time being but….she needs different magic than mine. She needs an elvish touch. Her kind, they are not as susceptible to a wizard’s whim.”

“If her bleeding is not so bad, can we not patch her up?” Fili asked.

“You may try but she had suffered wounds unseen,” Gandalf advised, “Sewing her flesh will not heal that.”

“The king,” Feather’s voice was low, “The elven king, Thranduil. He is close.”

“He is our enemy. At least, he was until the orcs showed,” Dwalin growled, “Why would we trust him?”

“We haven’t much choice,” Fili said.

“I fear he trusts you even less,” Gandalf offered, “But I know he is not entirely uncaring. He has a son. Every father, regardless of race, knows the value of a child.”

“We must go to him,” Fili insisted, “We can’t leave her on this floor any longer. Must we let this ridiculous rivalry take everything from us?”

“How are we to move her?” Dwalin asked.

“You’re not going to argue?” Fili pondered.

“She is my daughter. I would let the elven king strike me down if it meant she lived.”

“I can carry her,” Gandalf said, “I am stronger than I look.” He held out his staff to Fili, “If you would kindly, young dwarf.”

Fili took the staff, taller than himself, and watched as the wizard neared Feather. He bent and lithely lifted her as if she weighed little more than her namesake. She moaned as he stood but she was smiling once more. She leaned her head against his shoulder and Dwalin quickly got to his feet, retrieving his ax as he followed.

Fili walked with the older dwarf, keeping behind the wizard as he led them from the temple. They looked to each other, sharing a moment of dread and hope. They did not need to say it to know they felt the same way.

By the time they reached Dale, evening was fast approaching. The descent from Raven’s Hill had been treacherous but the wizard barely faltered on the stony pass. At the city’s wall, they were stopped by a pair of sentinels; one human and the other elven. Gandalf faced them with candour, the elf in his arms slipping back into unconsciousness.

“We are here to see King Thranduil,” The grey wizard announced, “I think you should recognize me. I was only just visiting his tent before this whole mess broke out.”

“I recognized you, wizard,” The elf replied, “But you did not have two dwarves in tow then. I cannot say my king would welcome you thus.”

“Good thing you do not speak the king’s mind,” Gandalf rebuffed, “I should think he doesn’t leave his thinking up to a guard. A wise ruler would not so easily overlook a previous ally.”

“Aye, you let us past or this axe will go straight up–” Dwalin began but Fili grabbed his arm, keeping him from finishing his threat.

“There is no need for further violence,” Another voice sounded from beyond the gates. Thranduil appeared from within, his silver eyes taking in the motley group before him. He frowned as he neared and touched the wounded elf’s bloodstained hair. “It seems it has taken much already.”

“My daughter,” Dwalin’s demeanour had softened and he had returned to his mournful frown, “She needs you. Please.”

Thranduil considered Feather. Her eyes had closed twenty minutes past but her heavy breaths assured them of her continued existence. He bowed his head, his long nose catching the evening shadow, setting a sombre tone to his face. “I know what it is to lose a child, though to know they are no longer in this world would be worse than my own loss.”

“Legolas?” Fili struggled not to sneer the name.

“Has seen my iniquity before I could.” He stared at the girl in the wizard’s arm, “He was right to leave me. I was blind for so long.” He turned to Dwalin, bending to meet his eyes, “It may hurt but I could not forsake the same pain upon another.” He nodded and stood straight, “You may bring her in and I shall do my best to mend her. I cannot promise she will survive but I would not deny the chance to you.” He inhaled and approached the wizard, offering to take Feather, “Your magick has at least allowed her that.”

Dwalin visibly held himself back as Thranduil took Feather in his arms. His silver robe fluttered from beneath his armor as he turned and passed back through the gate. Fili gulped and looked to the other dwarf, the wizard following the elven king. They shrugged and stepped into the city of man. The night had set, lending an ominous gloom to their entrance.

* * *

Feather woke slowly. Her eyes cleared and she found she was no longer in the arms of the wizard. Above, a tent of grey cloth filled her vision, the glow of candles giving light to her tired eyes. She groaned, the same pain as before grasped her but was not so intense. It was a dull ache along her hairline, hip, hand, and forearm. Her head was heavy and she disliked the thought of moving.

She looked down at her body. Her hand was wrapped in a thin bandage, the slashes on her arm and along her hip were sewn. She could feel dressings wrapped around her head as well. Her hair was knotted and the smell of sweat and blood wafted from it. She grumbled, her arm slipping from the cot she lay on. The cool air brushed her fingertips, a warmth catching her hand.

She turned her head, smiling at her ada. He was sat on a bench, his shoulders slumped as he leaned forward and held her hand. He marveled at the movement of her fingers. Fili was beside him, draped over the bench and snoring. They must have been waiting for her.

“I thought I lost you,” Dwalin gristled as he got down on his knees, coming closer to kiss her cheek, “My little feather.”

“I’m here,” She assured him, “Sore, but here.”

“I swear to Mahal, if you ever do that again, girl,” She laughed and he joined her, his eyes glistening with tears. “I mean it, don’t you ever do anything so stupid again.”

“I promise, Ada,” She loosed her hand from his and touched his furry cheek, “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. You’re my brave little feather,” He preened. He dug around in his pocket and pulled forth a familiar plume. It was the faded grey feather he had always worn in his hair. He placed it on her stomach. “But you are grown now. A true warrior. You’ll always be my daughter but I cannot be as I was. I will always worry but I know you are strong enough to keep yourself. Besides,” He paused and looked to the prince dozing on the bench, “You don’t belong to me anymore.”

He slowly stood, placing one last kiss on her cheek. “You and him need to talk.” He turned and shook Fili’s shoulder, “Come on. Just like a Durin; always sleeping when he shouldn’t be.”

Fili jumped up, Dwalin stilled him before he could lash out. He bent and whispered in the younger dwarf’s ear before departing. Fili’s green eyes met Feather’s meekly. He smiled but it wavered and fell. He looked her over, again and again, as if he could not believe she were there. She reached out with her bandaged hand, touching the cuff of his tunic.

“Did you mean it?” She asked.

“Did I mean what?” He shifted closer, her slender fingers twining perfectly with his thick ones.

“That you love me?” Her cheek twitched.

“I’ve always loved you, Feather,” He smiled, for real this time, “You’re my One. The  _only_ one. Forever and always.”

Feather nodded and turned to look at the tent ceiling. She untangled her hand from Fili’s and grunted as he pushed herself up, catching the grey feather in her other hand. He watched her with concern as she struggled to keep herself upright, stumbling over onto the bench beside him. He steadied her before she could fall off the other side.

“Do you love _me_?” He asked tentatively.

She chuckled and touched his blood-spattered beard, tracing the braid of his mustache to the bead that dangled at its end. “Of course, I love you.” She answered, leaning her forehead against his. “Forever and always.”

Fili tilted his head and pressed his lips to Feather’s. Her hands cradled his chin as his warmth filled her, spreading across her cheeks and down her spine. They kissed as if it was their first and last. The did not part for what seemed an eternity. Feather leaned her head on his shoulder and pressed the grey plume into his hand.

“I’m yours and you are mine,” She whispered as he nuzzled her thick hair. He took the feather and twirled it in his fingers. It would go well in his courting braid and she would go well with him. They were home at last.


End file.
